


Fractured Infinity

by Maunakea



Series: Split Infinity [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Mentions of Past Meanness, Multi, Quantum Shenanigans, Reckless Use of The Word Quantum, Relationship Problems like Whoa, Reparations Universe, Starscream stuck babysitting, The Transformers: Lost Light, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-11-17 12:24:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 90,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11275275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maunakea/pseuds/Maunakea
Summary: Starscream faces his greatest challenge ever, in the form of not one, not two, but three little disasters.





	1. Worst Idea Ever

**Author's Note:**

> Reparations Universe.
> 
> Note: “It’s an older trope, sir, but it checks out. I was about to clear them…” 
> 
> This is my take on the whole ‘straddled with sparklings’ meme. **There are mentions of noncon between adult robots, slavery, relationship problems, and other past meanness, but nothing explicit.** If you’ve read [ Reparations ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5722678/chapters/13185766) some of this will have deeper meaning, but it’s not required by any means. This is meant to be a standalone work.
> 
> This first chapter or so sets up the framework before everything goes off the rails, more chapters coming when time permits. This is all just a little self-indulgent nonsense, which is my favorite type of nonsense. :-P
> 
> Note: The sparklings in this story are strongly inspired by this incredible artist’s depiction of [ Optimus Prime as a sparkling. ](http://b0ssbot.tumblr.com/post/157717065467/everyone-everyone-is-drawing-babies-i) Look upon this artist’s mighty work and squeeeeee.
> 
> Also, small mentions of [ Megacat ](http://pollution-of-subterranean-waters.tumblr.com/image/151184705509) which is not my creation, the concept being shamelessly borrowed from this fantastical artist’s awesome comics.

 

“Behold my ultimate weapon!”

Up on the staging platform, Megatron threw his arms dramatically wide, “Designed to pull energy from the dark fabric of the cosmos itself! Behold the doom of the Autobots!”

There was a pattering of strained applause from the Decepticons gathered, the barest minimum necessary to avoid being vaporized by cannon-fire.

“It’s just an unstable, over-glorified turret!” Starscream shouted back, though only his harsh optics and the tips of his wings were visible from the platform. The rest of him was hidden amidst the crowd of Decepticons at ground level.

“He means we are all going to die,” Dead End informed everyone within listening range as Starscream dropped his servos to his hips and glared hate-rays at Glorious Leader.

Undaunted, Megatron didn’t even pause. His self-aggrandizing speech continued on and on and his voice bounced off downtown Seattle’s largest buildings, completely drowning out Starscream’s complaints.

Across the way and with a _whoomp-thunk_ , Scavenger dumped the last car (complete with screaming humans) onto a stacked pile, adding the finishing touches to a barricade around the staging area. “Finished grid block 3C,” he reported into Constructicon private comms, adding a quiet, “for all the good it’ll do.”

“He’s right, for once. I don’t understand why we even bothered,” said Hook, much louder than was necessarily safe. “This won’t even slow the Autobots down–”

Scrapper stabbed a finger at his wrist communicator, cutting Hook off. “Help Long Haul with his section,” and his harsh tone ended the conversation there.

Back at the platform, Starscream was growing shriller by the breem, and for good reason. Megatron had insisted on deploying his latest super weapon in a location with lots of exposure and no cover ... the very heart of Seattle.

Even now, bored-looking KOMO reporters were peeking out behind every overturned nook, cranny, and manhole cover.  Megatron had ordered them left alone, proclaiming them “heralds of doom.” They were providing live coverage to the local squishie population and by extension, the Autobots.

“Mr. Onslaught!” called one brave reporter, holding up his mic. “Can we get a few words?”

“ _No_ ,” Onslaught snarled, instantly peeved that this squishie knew him by name. He clenched his fist and lifted a massive pede, but didn’t bring it down on the squishie, even though refraining appeared to cause him physical pain. Instead, the reporter ducked back behind an overturned truck and continued his minute-by-minute coverage.

“So, how many news stations are we featuring on now, Soundwave?” Starscream called, smirking when Soundwave’s only reply was to pinch his nasal sensor for stress. All of this was a departure from sound tactics, and everyone looked tense.

The deployment of their secret weapon wasn’t bolstering confidence levels either. There was a growing sense of wrongness about the thing, and now the pre-activation sequence wasn’t going as planned. Even worse, there were glaring discrepancies in what the super weapon was reporting about itself and what they were actually _seeing_.

EVERYTHING IS FINE, read the display readout, followed by ENERGY CONTINUE PROVIDE PLEASE.

“I, uh, didn’t program it to string words together like that,” Scrapper said to nobody in particular. He continued to peck at the console like he expected it to explode in his face at any moment.

“No one else is concerned about this?” Starscream yelled across the crowd. “Surely I’m not _entirely_ surrounded by short-circuited glitches?”

“And do what about it?” said one of the Stunticons, while everyone else inched away from Starscream, leaving him standing all by his lonesome like the cannon-fire target he was rapidly becoming.

“Quiet, Starscream,” Megatron demanded. “All is well in hand,” and he pointed at the weapon’s display that now read DECEPTICON MEGATRON ALL HAIL ENERGY.

“You can’t be serious?!” Starscream said, clutching his helm with both hands in sheer disbelief. “I mean, just _look_ at it!” Scores of red optics obediently swiveled from the command-level argument to the monstrosity resting on the platform behind them.

It wasn’t a pretty sight.

Constructed of twisted metal and harsh angles, the weapon resembled a massive radio telescope like a typhoon resembled a rain shower, and not once did the thing feign any sort of believable normalcy.

 That first surge of quantum energies to prime the device had manifested tiny lightening-tendrils which surged upwards from the outer layers, and upon initial activation, the device seemed nothing short of alive. If the wire base was its frame, then the lightening tendrils served as hands. They raced up the body of the device and rippled through the air, seeming solid in a way lightening should never be.

“I can’t be the only one seeing this!” Starscream shrieked. Behind him, Thundercracker took a nervous step back for the look in Megatron’s eyes. It was the sort of look that would clear a room, not that there was anywhere anyone could retreat to, and he wasn’t the only one concerned.

Skywarp materialized behind him with a _wharp_ and whispered into his audial, “Is it supposed to do that?”

Thundercracker shook his helm and twitched a wing, shushing him. He stared at the device a moment longer, and then answered in wing-speak. ‘Just be ready to bust aft out of here when things go south. Megatron is in another one of his moods.’

‘When is he _not_ in a mood anymore,’ Skywarp flicked back, pulling a face. After sneaking a sneaky aft-grab, which Thundercracker pretended to ignore, he teleported back to his position. But Thundercracker’s frown lingered and he wasn't the only one wearing his upset on his face.

From their positions around the device, Onslaught, Soundwave, and Scrapper were exchanging cold looks. Anyone who understood the inner workings of the Decepticons could see how frayed Command was, thanks to the growing instability of Glorious Leader. Not for the first time did Thundercracker wonder how much longer Megatron’s tenure as leader could last. It was only a matter of time before the heavy hitters did something about his crazy-aft behavior.

During brief moments of lucidity, it seemed Megatron had come to the same conclusion. “Don't think I haven't noticed your conspiring against me,” he called down to Starscream. “Turn as many of them against me as you think you can. It is to my benefit! Traitors will receive all that is coming to them.”

Megatron patted his cannon in emphasis, and then turned his back.

Leaving Starscream to his seething.

It didn’t help Starscream's mood any that Megatron was talking down to him. Under normal circumstances he’d have claimed his place on the platform and spat his venom right in Megatron’s face, but he couldn’t bear the close quarters anymore. He’d been keeping a greater distance from Glorious Leader than ever before, and his wings were swept back and his thrusters hummed in idle, ready to dart away if need be.

All around Starscream, mechs kept glancing between him and Megatron and trading knowing looks.

Meanwhile, Megatron returned his attention to his victory speech. His powerful voice rose and fell in the manner of a grand orator ... though he paid his audience’ skeptical expressions no mind. It was obvious to everyone that he'd been looking forward to this moment, yet it seemed a terrible time to be crowing victory.

Ever since Optimus Prime somehow escaped his enslavement and rescued his soldiers, things had changed. The Autobots had developed a spinal strut they’d never had before. Theirs was a fury fueled by the cruelties they'd suffered during captivity, and once they’d recovered enough to re-engage, the Decepticon casualties began piling up.

Now anyone who fell before the Autobots were slain in the manner of the trinity; one shot through the helm, one through the spark chamber, and one through the transformation cog.

No hesitation, no quarter given, and everyone knew why mercy was no longer on offer.

Megatron had been neither subtle nor restrained in his cruelty. His sickening abuse of Prime and the other captives had forever changed the flavor of the war. Gone was the near jovial mood that used to dominate Decepticon pre-battle preparations. Gone was the enjoyment of pitting oneself against worthy rivals, nurtured by the near-certainty of surviving clashes thanks to (the much mocked) Autobot compassion.

Megatron had murdered that quasi-friendly sense of rivalry and the results of his depravity meant the war had reverted to the viciousness of the early days. Now everyone was on edge, and it didn’t help that Starscream kept yelling things like “did you even _read_ any of my memos!?” and “remember the _last time_ Shockwave excited a multi-dimensional quantum field?!”

“–we still haven’t found that warworld!”

“Memos; concerning,” and even Soundwave added his weighty monotone in opposition to Megatron’s glorious plan. “Quantum weapon’s behavior is most questionable.”

“Thank you!” and Starscream threw his servos wide in exasperation, but still Megatron ignored him.

That open confirmation of concern – and that Soundwave was backing Starscream for once – was nothing short of amazing. The splintering of Megatron’s control continued at a breakneck pace.

Even the Constructicons started hinting that things weren’t alright once buoyed by other voices daring to complain. And they should know, they’d modified the damned thing … but did Megatron listen?

No, of course he didn’t.

After all, Megatron liked a little spirit in his weapons of mass destruction. It didn’t help that other than the odd lightening waving merrily from its edges, the weapon was reporting full readiness and appeared compliant. It was good enough for Glorious Leader, and he demanded it brought to full power.

“Do I command proud Decepticon warriors or cowering petrol-doves?!” roared Megatron when the complaints continued to rain down from all sides. Now the business end of his cannon was glowing and everyone fell silent as they’d done countless times before ... even as Mighty Megatron made a mockery of everything they’d ever claimed to believe in.

Some of the thuggish Decepticons and those with mercenary bent would have been just fine with that, but for the increasingly poor battle tactics on display. Losing ground due to ineptitude rubbed everyone wrong, but those committed to the original cause had the added burden of watching Megatron trample all over their principles.

Across the street, Soundwave slumped in place and that was when Starscream put his pede down. Unlike the fools around him, he didn’t need a blinking neon sign to figure things out. Nor was he one to suffer idiocy in silence. “What do you _mean_ we aren’t going to run the final tests that I _already informed_ _you_ were critical before we fully activate this _monstrosity_ of yours?!”

“Command your Armada to take their positions, Starscream,” Megatron snapped over his shoulder. “The Autobots are on the way.”

All across the staging ground, the Decepticons were eyeing the Tacoma Dome in the distance like one would an approaching rust storm. There was a monster truck rally in progress, and the Autobots were the guests of honor this evening. That meant the entire slagging mess of them were close by, and that was no small amount of the electric anxiety in the air (or rather, most of the charged electrons bouncing about were from the super weapon, currently growing fingers at the end of its lightening hands).

Megatron insisted their proximity was ideal.

He was delighted to have such a massive, ready-made audience to witness the Autobot’s inevitable, inglorious defeat … no matter that the entirety of the Autobots on Earth were already revved up, out strutting their stuff in front of crowds of happy, screaming squishies. No matter that the Decepticons were exposed out with a batshit-insane leader and an untested weapon of questionable destructive capabilities. 

Ignoring the fearful looks from his trine, Starscream barreled onward, “and just _who_ is at fault for that? You were warned that the Autobots were present in force and now I am standing here telling you _this is a mistake_ _._ ”

Starscream’s voice dropped several octaves; well into the range of contemptuous tones. He saw Megatron tighten his grip on his cannon, saw Thundercracker step forward with optics wide, saw Skywarp tense. _At least they still care_ , and that thought sent a flood of warmth through Starscream, though he refused to acknowledge their anxious wing flicks.

His time was coming.

He could feel it and he kept pushing, no matter the punishment he might earn for his boldness. The Decepticons needed a new leader. They needed proper direction and sanity. They were too far off course, and he was certain only _he_ could turn this ship around … that only he had the intelligence, nay, sheer genius necessary to save the Decepticon faction from themselves.

"The Autobots have left the Tacoma Dome, currently inbound," Onslaught reported. His no-nonsense vocalizer interrupted the tense moment. And was that a hint of disapproval for Megatron in his tone?

Yes, yes it was.

Starscream swallowed back a smirk and held his ground, because Megatron was fragging insane and this plan was a mistake and he was right and everyone knew it.

“The only mistake was bringing you along!” Megatron snarled back. “Now cease your nattering or I will silence you myself.” Then he turned his back, his finger stroking the trigger of his oversized canon.

It was both statement and taunt.

Starscream seriously considered shooting the maniac then and there, but his keen sense of self-preservation held him back. Even as fiercely as he’d protested, his optics rarely left his leader’s face and hands. The caginess in his optics was well beyond his normal wont. His wings were still as stone and the little trembles that had once indicated a more-then-professional interest in his leader’s words and frame was wholly missing.

More than ever, Starscream wanted Megatron slate-gray _dead_.

But Starscream didn’t power up his null rays. He just stood there and ground his denta. For whatever Megatron's assumptions, the truth was that his attempts to garner support had fallen as flat as ever. He didn’t dare push much further, not so long as the rest of the Decepticons continued to stand around like the processor-blank idiots he knew them to be. Even now their optics lingered on him, all of them waiting for _him_ to do something, and yet still unwilling to back him up when the slag hit the fan.

_Infuriating!_

Ignoring how Soundwave and the rest of the Decepticons were edging away from the quantum weapon, Megatron yelled for Scrapper to “Shock it again! Full power!”

“You belay that order, Scrapper!” and no one could say Starscream wasn’t trying. This time Starscream had to dodge cannon-fire, and took to the air while Megatron fired at him a few more times.

Megatron was laughing merrily. His optics were white at the edges. Everyone tensed, ready to dodge if one of those careless shots ended up coming their way. Glorious Leader’s new penchant for lethally shooting anyone who irritated him — along with his steadily declining aim — had snuck up on them in the manner of a horrified hop-oid just noticing the cooking oil was starting to boil.

Anyone standing too close fell under the umbrella of friendly fire, and Megatron was causing no small number of serious injuries to his own soldiers. So perhaps it was understandable that Scrapper followed orders.

With a flinch, Scrapper tapped the control console and initiated a second surge of quantum energies. The center of the device seemed to pulse and contract, and then became home to a writhing void. The lightening-arms increased in size, filling the spaces between the surrounding buildings. The tips were feathery and moving in alarming ways, like a sparklet discovering what servos were good for.

Now the weapon was filling the skies with bizarre lightening, and the humans of the city were scattering everywhere. They were stumbling around and falling into things, an overall nuisance. True to their nature, no small numbers of the attractive males were tripping over their expensive shoes, spraining their ankles, and screaming for rescue.

 _Another terrible idea, to deploy our weapon at ground level and within reach of these little insects,_ Starscream thought as he landed and crossed his arms over his front. He scowled down at the throngs of humans and knocked one away from his pedes.

_Gross!_

“These things are less an audience and more a mess of lemmings!” Starscream shouted even as he and the others braced themselves for the inevitable.

***

 

As expected, the Autobots arrived in force.

Optimus Prime was at the forefront with his stoutest front-liners at his back. His wheels churned up the streets as he barreled towards the Decepticons in truck mode, while Prowl trailed along behind the heavy hitters.

Upon seeing Ironhide, Brawn, and especially the aggressive spark twins Sideswipe and Sunstreaker keeping pace at Prime’ sides, Starscream snapped orders into comms and his Armada took to the air.

Starscream remained on the ground, arms folded over his front.

Helm back and imposing, Starscream cut an impressive figure. He was easily a match for any one of Prime’s best soldiers, and they knew it. Against all of Prime’s best, that was another story, and Starscream felt caught out. He scowled menacingly at the approaching Autobots and made sure his wings were perfectly still to hide his nervousness.

Far too close for comfort, Prime skidding to a halt at the forefront of the assembling Autobot forces, then transformed and stood tall, brandishing his favorite blaster. He looked much stronger than the last time Starscream had seen him. It was quite the feat for just how badly he'd been treated while in Decepticon custody. His red and blue paint was still dim, but his servos held steady again.

More strikingly, his optics were … cold.

“Decepticons!” Prowl shouted as he skidded to a halt and transformed alongside his Prime, “What lunacy is this?” and it was another sign that things had changed. Although Optimus Prime was always front and center for these engagements, engaging Megatron with his blaster and his fists, he never spoke to Megatron anymore.

Not directly.

Oh, the Prime was still in charge. He still directed his soldiers to devastating effect. But the electric chemistry with that easy – oft cheesy – back and forth banter that had characterized his and Megatron’s encounters was gone.

It was another memo Megatron hadn't received. He continued to act as if nothing had changed between them. “Welcome, Prime! No need to thank me for sparing you the atrocity that is human theater!”

Starscream’s frown deepened as Megatron continued with the quasi-friendly tones, normally reserved for the intimate rivalry he and Prime once shared. How could he behave so jovially after what he’d done? Did the bastard even remember his obscene behavior?

For his part, Optimus Prime ignored the grand proclamations of his impending defeat. He just activated his battle-axe and slid into a fighting stance, though it was obvious by the way his optics moved and how his helm tilted back and forth that he was barking orders over Autobot comms.

It was Sunstreaker who answered Megatron, his optics bright with hate. “We would prefer entertaining the humans over anything _you_ have on offer!”

There was a matching storm cloud on Sideswipe’s face as the twins took position. They were eyeing the circling jets like mechs at a buffet. Seekers had so many sensitive spots on their lovely bodies … and jet judo had taken on a much nastier bent lately.

“Oh but you haven’t seen my weapon's capabilities yet,” Megatron gestured grandly, though he had eyes only for his counterpart. "I haven't forgotten your trespasses, Prime!"

No answer. Not so much as a word and then Prime was stalking forward, hefting his battle-axe, only to slide to a halt when Megatron roared "I haven't forgotten how you changed me into a fragging _cat!_ "

Optimus Prime actually blinked at that. Despite the face guard, Starscream could tell that Prime’s mouth had dropped open for shock. The months of watching Prime languish while leashed at Megatron’s feet – bare faced and helpless – had given Starscream a familiarity with his expressions, readable even with his battle mask restored.

Then Prime's mouth closed and his optics hardened. It was the sort of look one might have while working out the best way to put down a rabid beast.

At the same time, the rest of the Decepticons eyed each other wearily as Megatron spat his wrath, baring his madness for all to see. “I will make you _pay_ for forcing me to wear that belled collar and all those fragging ribbons!”

Starscream just face-palmed and with a muttered, “oh _Primus_ ” raked his fingers over his scrunched optics. He was embarrassed right out of his processer, though to be fair there _had_ been a little incident involving bells and ribbons.

Several months previous, Megatron had collapsed in a hallway (whereupon Starscream had braced a foot on Meg’s aft and instantly declared himself Exalted Leader of the Decepticons) completely comatose.  Only after Soundwave had forced Starscream to help Shockwave track Megatron’s missing mental energy had Glorious Leader been rescued and the truth revealed.

Megatron had been sucked into a shared dream-state with multiple other Megatrons from various dimensions, unintentionally controlled by an alternate reality version of Optimus Prime. The accident had seen Glorious Leader spending deliciously shameful amounts of time as a cute and fluffy cuddle-sponge … a literal Megacat _._

Starscream still had the recording to prove it – and make no mistake – enlarged vid-stills plastered all over the Nemesis’ walls in strategic places for everyone to laugh at and Mighty Megatron to rage over were absolutely appropriate and Starscream had laughed himself sick for days.

But the Optimus Prime from their universe wasn’t responsible for that little incident. It had been the result of their meddling with quantum energies during the super weapon’s creation stages. They had accidentally forged unwanted neural-circuit links with other quantum constructs throughout the shared interdimensional seams of the overall multi-phasic universe, resulting in shared mental pathways in anyone close enough to ... blah, blah, blah.

Shockwave had tried to explain the science to him over a vid-link, but Starscream had been understandably distracted by Mighty Megatron breaking things in the background in a futile attempt to resurrect his self-dignity by beating the slag out of random mechs too stupid to find hiding spots in advance.

Starscream had spent that entire week hiding under various consoles, down lift-shafts, inside utility closets, etc… etc…to avoid serving The Cause as a punching bag or worse. He was getting rather good at hiding in plain sight, actually. That particular vid-conference call with Shockwave had been taken while hiding under one of the Nemesis’ bridge consoles as he simultaneously looked up ‘multi-phasic universe’ and reprogrammed the massive main vid-screen to display various close ups of Megatron’s furry, horrified face whilst on the receiving end of Prime Time Cuddles.

The resulting scream of rage had Starscream stuffing both servos in his mouth, cheeks poofed out in a desperate attempt to stifle his laughter, frame trembling in barely contained mirth while everyone else on the Nemesis fled for their lives.

Good times, good times.

But anyway, the point was that their Optimus Prime had no idea anything of the sort had ever happened and such a stupendously embarrassing situation had no place being paraded out for the fragging Autobots to heckle over. Yet here Megatron was, making them all look like stark raving lunatics.

“Threats of belly rubs may have cowed the other Megatrons, but my revenge is at hand and—”

“Someone please stop him!” Skywarp begged over private comms, but there was no stopping Glorious Leader. For Mighty Megatron was on a roll, all but foaming at the intakes now. His glyphs were coming faster and faster and the whites of his optics were a bright gleam against darker red.

Starscream’s lips curled into a grimace as the inane ranting went long with no trace of the charismatic mech he’d pledged his life to. There was only madness, and once again he was ashamed of his leader.

“—welcome, Prime, to the dawn of your _doom!_ ”

In the painful silence that followed, one of the smaller Autobots dared snicker. “You know the medical community has patches for that!” the uppity minibot yelled, a blue and yellow model known for his motor mouth and bad attitude.

More side-eyed glances from the idiots around him, but no action. Hell, at this point Starscream was ashamed of his entire damned faction.

There was a low rumble-roar in the distance and Thundercracker reported that Grimlock and the Dynobots were coming in from the rear and looked... feisty. TC sounded concerned and everyone knew why. The Autobots were positioning themselves for maximum carnage whilst the ‘Cons were standing around like bunch of petrol-turkeys. If the Decepticons committed to this straightforward fight, mechs were going to die today.

Full stop.

“Well then,” the same mini-bot shouted as the Autobots recovered from their confusion and began an aggressive approach, “What the slag are you decepti-creeps waiting for?”

“Focus, Huffer,” Optimus Prime rumbled.

It was the first thing Prime had said the entire encounter, and from behind his palm, Starscream saw Megatron react eagerly, his hands curling into fists. There was a tremor down his back plating and his cooling fans were at a full roar … and worse, he smelled like _ozone_.

In-fragging-appropriate.

Starscream just shook his helm as the rest of the Autobots began to arrive and take position, more than they would ever tangle with openly like this. With how his faction was failing lately, he could only hope that the mouthfuls of fuel he’d secreted to the enslaved Prime and the times his Trine had openly opposed the worst of Megatron’s cruelty — to their own detriment — might mean mercy.

Behind them, the quantum weapon buzzed, and Starscream’s fingers finally dropped from his face when he turned his attention back to it … only to see the super weapon was _touching_ itself. His wings lifted in surprise and the scientist in him watched in fascination as the weapon explored its own frame in the manner of a living being first encountering itself.

Then Starscream’s mouth tightened into a thin line. His optics narrowed the exact moment he saw the thing recognize itself. He watched as the weapon seemed to like what it felt. Once satisfied, it began to do the next logical thing; touch other things. Upon discovering the ground, the living-lightening writhed here and there, grasping with feathery tips. The curious energy fingers fanned out and ensnared anything conductive that they encountered.

_Stuff!_

The ground was covered in _stuff_ and the weapon seemed thrilled with the discovery. It appeared particularly fond of metal of all types and sizes. The lightening fingers grasped and hauled anything conductive towards the weapon’s dark apex. It seemed the thing had discovered the concept of nutriment … and was merrily feeding itself.

The ravenous maw began regurgitating purple globules of fractured light as it fed, which floated eerily through the air. The wind was picking up around the weapon, and debris was starting to leave the ground and patter over metal armor.

At that point, Megatron had expended his best material at the oncoming, fuming Prime and was ready for a scrap. He bellowed attack orders and shouted, “Scrapper! Open fire on the Autobots! Teach them the meaning of terror!”

…

……

“Um. About that,” Scrapper mumbled. He’d stepped away from the console and now he didn’t want to approach close enough to the weapon to touch it anymore. Then one of the lightening arms brushed over his plating and reacted, and several of them curled eagerly towards him as he yelped and turned to flee.

Optimus Prime halted his advance, throwing his hand back to keep his soldiers from advancing any nearer to the weapon.

The wind picked up and Prowl’s dry commentary was swallowed alive by the growing uproar as the lightening gave chase. Then the other arms began to descend, reaching for Decepticon and Autobot alike.

Confused, Megatron blinked and called, “Scrapper?” Looking over his shoulder, he was treated to the sight of the Constructicon’s fleeing aft plates, even as the rest of his proud Decepticons warriors were following the Constructicon’s mighty example.

A lightening arm went for Megatron, and finally Glorious Leader noticed the device's questionable allegiances – for chaos knew no master. "How _dare_ –" and then Megatron was hauled off his pedes as a lightening-arm began to drag him towards the dark maw.

Mechs began to dodge every which way, scattering like petrol-doves.

Stepping forward, Prime hacked at one of the lightening-arms, all to no avail. The severed ends reattached almost instantly. He tried his blaster next with similar results. Then he began to back away, his optics narrowing in concern. The wind was raging now. Purple globules were floating all around him, but by necessity he paid them no mind, even when they passed within microns of his plating.

Meanwhile, Megatron had torn himself free and was sprinting away. He was shouting into internal comms, ordering his soldiers to return and fight even as he outpaced them in retreat, but the chaos had built to the point he couldn't make himself heard.

Only Starscream’s shrill vocal range was sufficient to rise above the storm.

“It’s feeding itself and growing larger, you tin-plated idiot!” Starscream shouted as he dodged grasping lightening-arms and the odd glowing globules. He was hurling abuse right back at Megatron, even as he struggled towards the weapon’s console alongside the besieged Autobots.

Maybe it was uncharacteristic of Starscream to show such selfless bravery, but he’d been a scientist before the war. Of all of them, he had the best chance of actually shutting the thing down. More importantly, Starscream was too torqued to process properly.

Out of the corner of his optic, he could see his trine dodging Sunstreaker and Sideswipe’s attempts to grab hold — grounders had no business moving that fast! — and he was almost touched that they were trying to stay close to him.

Everyone was ignoring the globules, that is, up and until Skywarp accidentally flew through one while working his way towards Starscream. In the same instant, their effects on living metal became clear. Not only was the device abusing the laws of physics, the thing was fracturing _time_ itself.

For where a proud Decepticon warrior had been, a tiny seekerling tumbled from the sky and lay shrieking on the ground. Everyone who wasn't already miles away began babbling at once.

“What in the name of—”

“Holy scrap! That thing just turned Skywarp’s clock back four million years!”

“’Warp! Hold on! I’m coming!”

“All Combaticons converge on my position for tactical retreat through Grid L, Brawl take point and Blast Off at the rear _god dammit_ Swindle you drop that armored bank transport and _move your aft_ –”

“Situation: intolerable. All cassettes; operation evacuation.”

“MEGATRON YOU GET BACK HERE YOU VENT-HUFFING SCRAPHEAP AND YOU HELP ME SHUT THIS THING DOWN!”

“Okay, that’s my limit for weird fragging slag. I’m out, _frag_ the cons, _frag_ the squishies, _frag_ everything, now my paint’s scratched and I am _not_ reliving sparkling-hood!”

“Pretty-mech’s got a point—”

“Autobots, fall back to my position and prepare to evacuate the humans!”

“Prime, that is an inadvisable course of action–”

“Hey Megsy! I’m still waiting for my _dawn of doom_!”

“You shut yer yap, Huffer!”

Needless to say, everyone took one look, realized the horrifying implications, and then turned tail and fled in all directions.

Only the stoutest Autobots, the Command Trine, and Soundwave were still within grasping reach of the quantum weapon, though Soundwave was only there because he didn’t dare retreat yet. Not while his precious cassettes were still scattered about and trying to return to him.

Thundercracker was having trouble staying ahead of the grasping tendrils and so Starscream turned back and snatched up little Skywarp.

“Hold _on_ you little menace!” and Starscream stuffed Skywarp into his cockpit. He darted behind an abandoned double-decker city bus for some cover. He could hardly make any progress with how grabby the weapon was. Worse, at the rate it was expanding it wouldn’t be long before it engulfed its own console. There would be no shutting it down then.

As he stared, Starscream could feel bitty fingers poking at his cockpit glass and Starscream snapped a protective seatbelt around his trine … sparklet? Skywarp seemed only a megacycle old, and he was acting it. He slapped his tiny servos over his face and meeped in sheer terror.

Starscream’s voice crackled out of his internal speaker system, ever the soothing presence — “just _be quiet_ you little glitch!” — while using the human-style redundancy that came with this particular style of jet. Never in a million stellar cycles could he have imagined he’d have an actual passenger.

Skywarp didn't seem capable of following orders, or even comprehending them. Starscream’s yelling wasn’t having any useful effect, either. But he didn’t dare focus on his little trine mate. They weren't safe.

As far as he could tell, no one was.

“This is your worst idea _ever_ _!_ ” Starscream shrieked across the battlefield and over the comms as he sprinted ever closer to the maw of madness, “Megatron! You fragging useless glitch! This is _your_ stupid fault! If we don’t shut it down now, who knows how large this thing will get! Now find your spinal strut and get _back here!_ ”

Megatron’s newest ridiculous farce had to be dealt with now, for reasons Starscream thought were slagging obvious. But it seemed he was howling at a brick wall for all Megatron was listening.

In fact, Megatron was already out of sight, having saved himself as a first priority. Such cowardice was a complete turnabout from when he used to be the first on the battlefield and the last to leave it … back when it was respect and perhaps even love that bound his Decepticons to him.

“Situation unacceptable,” a suspiciously monotone voice agreed. The owner of that voice was hidden somewhere amidst the rubble, and didn’t sound impressed.

Ducking another lightening arm, Starscream gave up on Glorious Leader and sprinted forward, charging past one of the barricades currently being dismantled and eaten by the super weapon.

Out of the corner of his optic, Starscream saw Soundwave break cover and leap over a barricade to avoid the weapon’s grasp, taking momentary shelter behind one of the overturned vehicles. He heard the blue spy call out for his cassettes again, but didn’t bother to stop and help.

Soundwave was on his own.

Ignoring his fellow Decepticon, Starscream filled internal comms with venom instead while heading towards the main console on the weapon’s side. Fortunately, the thing seemed rather basic, and didn’t realize his intentions.

… always a mistake.

*******

 

Soundwave watched as Starscream sprinted by his position.

The Air Commander had been proven right and Soundwave felt a pang of guilt for not stepping up and helping. But he was too close to the epicenter of the disaster, and he had more than just himself to worry about.

All around him, the device’s lightening arms grabbed whatever metal objects they encountered. They were nearly impossible to cut once they’d latched on, and he was worried for his deployed cassettes. He didn’t dare pause and continued crawling towards safety, though it was difficult for how fast the quantum weapon’s reach was growing.

“Megatron’s stratagem: inexplicable,” Soundwave rumbled in agreement with Starscream's screechy ranting as he struggled to retreat. He even went so far as to repeat his complaint over internal comms. He was too distraught to check himself and with good reason; for cradled under one arm were two tiny kittens.

Ravage and Steeljaw had been mid-battle when caught by one of the purplish globules. Soundwave had snatched up both kittens, then busted aft off the platform. They couldn’t transform at this age and that meant he had to hold them, and it was slowing him down. Flying was too dangerous now for how numerous the lightening-arms were, which meant he was grounded.

Their squeaking cries filled his audials as he fled. It was all very upsetting and Soundwave repeated his order for his cassettes to return to him. He activated his emergency beacon to help the last of his panicked little family converge on his ever-changing position.

“Don’t trip a circuit, Sounders! We’re here!” Rumble said as he and Frenzy leapt the last few feet to the relative safety of their carrier.

Soundwave’s visor flashed with relief to see them. Most of his cassettes had already made it back to him and now he was only missing Laserbeak. He had just finished securing Rumble and Frenzy back in his dock when he heard his precious avian cassette cry out.

Tagged by one the globules, Laserbeak was tumbling from the sky, falling head over pede with high-pitched cheeps of horror ... now too young to fly.

Soundwave saw her falling and turned to charge to her rescue — risk be damned — and then stopped when he saw a familiar blocky red frame reach her position first. Then he groaned with stuttered vents when his arch-nemesis, the thrice-accursed Autobot Blaster, leapt up and caught Laserbeak mid-fall. He saw the rival carrier roll away with Laserbeak cuddled to his chest, now a helpless little chick.

Though Soundwave was too level-headed for mindless panic, it was a near thing.

Blaster dodged this way and that as he fled, struggling to avoid grasping lightening-arms and floating globules. Soundwave relaxed a notch when his rival seemed every bit as protective over his little charge as Soundwave himself.

It seemed the Autobot's new policy of 'death with no exceptions' didn't apply to sparklets, to Soundwave's vast relief.

After ducking to avoid a hunting lightening-arm, Soundwave paused in his crawling retreat only long enough to tap out a small message informing Blaster that he had Steeljaw in custody and that the kitten was unharmed. He would have tried to reclaim Laserbeak right then, but for the sake of the rest of his cassettes, he didn’t dare start a fight.

The globules were coming thicker now, spewing from the device in pulses. Only Optimus Prime, his Autobots, and frelling _Starscream_ and his trine had stayed behind. They were the only ones trying to shut the damned thing down.

“Nice leader you got there,” Blaster heckled Soundwave from across the street, after darting behind some rubble for cover. “Real standup guy, fragging up his own team and then leaving you mechs behind to save his own aft!"

Soundwave ground his denta behind his mask. That wasn’t even the half of it … not even the half of _that_.

After the initial victory of the Big Push and the shattering of the Autobot forces, things had been going steadily downhill. So many regrets hung over him. He'd always believed in the Decepticon cause, or at least the original one before all the excuses and compromises.

“Definitely somebody worth fighting for, am I right? Somebody worth risking your family for?” Noise didn’t seem to attract the crazy weapon, and so Blaster was making the most of the opportunity to verbally stab his bitter rival.

“Oh how the mighty have fallen,” and Blaster’s mocking voice was undercut by a song blasting over his loudspeakers:

~You!~

~You're another shit talkin' punk to me~

~You're a living inspiration for what I never wanna be~

~I see you've been blinded by what you believe~

~Now back up and sit down, shut up and act like you need to be~

Soundwave flinched as Blaster struck a raw circuit. Only vorns ago they’d had the Autobots on the run. Final victory seemed at hand, to the point that most of the Autobots were captive.

And then Megatron had made his victory speech on the shattered husk of Iacon’s city hall, proclaiming the Autobots as a slave race, inferior to the Decepticons. Always before such captivity had been coached as work camps for POWs, necessary to detain otherwise dangerous captives. But this was different. True enslavement had been a controversial decree on Megatron’s part. Abolishing slavery had been part and parcel of their original goals, and this was a full on betrayal of those ideals.

Soundwave flinched at the memory. He should have fought it. He should have stood up and _forced_ Megatron to see reason and dispatched him if that proved impossible.

Alas, too many heavy hitters had been happy to look the other way while Megatron took Optimus Prime as a personal slave. He knew things had gone too far, to the point that he couldn’t count himself as one of the good guys anymore. He couldn’t dismiss the rage the Autobots were directing at them as necessary for the greater good of a Decepticon rule... for what good had come of their conquest?

The answer was nothing.

Absolutely _nothing_.

Megatron’s victory was every bit as loathsome as the regime they’d disposed. After all they had suffered and sacrificed, it made Soundwave sick to his spark that _this_ was what victory looked like. For all that he'd compromised his ideals, now the tables were turning and he wasn't fighting like he should. His spirit wasn't in it anymore; he couldn't muster the will he should have. It was no small part of the Autobot’s constant victories.

“Soundwave is also at fault,” Soundwave mumbled, directing his voice towards the mewing kittens now tucked in his cassette dock. It was every bit the apology it sounded. He should have stood in firm opposition to this ridiculous plan.

There were so many things he should have opposed…

“Ya got that right, Sounders!” and Soundwave winced as Blaster’s parting shot carried across the battlefield. There was nothing he could say to that and so Soundwave just crawled faster.

Right now, Soundwave had his precious cassettes to worry about. He had to see them to safety and he focused on scuttling from the battlefield on his hands and knees. He stayed low to try and avoid the lightening-arms that threatened to drag him back into the maelstrom.

Blaster was doing much the same. As he ducked around a mess of cars, he caught Soundwave's optic. The two carriers traded harsh looks as they continued to retreat in different directions. Both had secreted away the other’s sparklet in their docks for safekeeping.

Even for their rivalry, some things transcended faction lines, and between them was an unspoken agreement in regards to their precious cassettes. Both knew an under-the-table sparkling swap was in their immediate futures.

Far in the distance, Soundwave caught sight of retreating silver as Megatron made it to safety. But there was a dangerous rumbling in Decepticon comms now, and Soundwave set his jaw while pitiful mews filled his audials.

He wasn't going to stand idly by this time. This wasn’t the life he wanted, the future he’d fought so long and hard for. He wasn't going to bury himself under excuses anymore, wasn’t going to ignore the horrors perpetrated by his own faction. He _was_ one of the good guys, and it was time to steer the Decepticons back to the straight and narrow, and if that proved impossible, then it was time to burn the foulness to the ground.

Megatron wasn't getting out of this unscathed. Soundwave was going to see to that _personally_. The rumbles in the comms would not be left to die out under the tyrant’s threats as they had so many times in the recent past.

Soundwave continued his retreat, hesitating only briefly to capture a single glowing globule that floated past; a plan was forming and such a thing might be very useful.

He'd just started moving again when a streak of lightening discovered him. It nearly grabbed him and he rolled away just in time as one of the tiny kittens — his telepathy meant he knew it was Ravage — screamed in terror and emptied his little waste tanks inside Soundwave’s dock.

Soundwave couldn’t dare take the time to comfort what _should have been_ his eldest cassette. Having broken cover, more lightening-arms oriented on his position and gave chase. He managed to shake them by throwing a chunk of metal as a distraction and then squirreling away, but he had to keep moving for how close he was to the ever-expanding maw.

That changed once Soundwave cleared the monstrosity and regained his footing. Soundwave’s fingers splayed over his chest, and inside his dock, his voice rumbled out of his internal speakers. He took a moment to pause and offer reassurances to his terrified kittens, but behind his visor, his optics were harsh.

Soundwave looked up to see Megatron’s tread-trails fading in the distance, and he ground his denta. His old “friend" hadn’t even looked back as he callously left Soundwave and his little family behind to rust.

…Oh yes, there would be consequences.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: The song Blaster was heckling Soundwave with is called “The Enemy” by Godsmack.


	2. Shenanigans Afoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Optimus Prime makes a critical mistake.

It was an absolute slag show.

There was no other way to describe it. The lightening-arms were now a half-mile out from the quantum weapon and expanding, and the glowing globules were coming thicker and faster. Livid forks of lighting flayed the evening skies with streaks so brilliant they hurt the optics. Human vehicles and other constructs and debris flew through the air in a hurricane of things breaking and broken.

The mess was slowly being dragged toward the maw of darkness at the device’s core. Saturated in quantum energies and birthed into the corporeal world, the proud Decepticon brand across the quantum weapon’s front dispelled any doubt that such a complete and utter disaster _wasn’t_ Megatron’s stupid-aft fault.

The only silver lining was that thanks to the Decepticon’s poor planning, human casualties were surprisingly few, though the surrounding area was a complete disaster.

Spiraling and looping gracefully, the closest section of the I-5 was backed up to the pits (normal) with screaming hordes of humans attempting to flee on foot (also normal) while dodging the lightening-tendrils and floating purple globules (okay, not normal).

Needless to say, things had gone terribly wrong, and now anyone and everyone who didn’t have precious family members on the line were fleeing ground zero at the highest speeds possible.

…all except the Autobots.

Exactly a half-mile away from the weapon, and at Optimus’ orders, a harrowing game of dodgeball was in full swing. The Autobots were dancing around the edge of the weapon's reach, running helter-skelter to dodge the glowing globules while avoiding the grasping lightening-tendrils, all to help rescue the humans, of course.

Because _frag them_ , that’s why.

Several mechs had already fallen victim to the purple globules, instantly requiring rescue. Sparkling meeps could be heard in the background of Autobot comms as tagged mechs were snatched up by comrades and stuffed into various cabs and internal compartments for safe keeping.

Deep within ground zero, Starscream was still fighting with the weapon, dancing around like an absolute maniac to stay ahead of the grasping arms. Everyone knew he was there because he was still shrieking up at a circling Thundercracker.

"–get the frag out of here because you can't help and there is no way I am sparkling-sitting Skywarp so don't you even **think** of getting tagged–"

The Autobots less inclined for self-sacrifice wanted to follow Starscream’s sage advice but couldn’t because won’t _someone_ think of the squishies?!

As usual, that someone was Beloved Leader. “Everyone, continue your focus on evacuating the humans! Mirage, come with me. I will need your help,” and Optimus Prime’s orders rumbled loudly through Autobot comms.

"On my way Prime," Mirage called as he went invisible, though there wasn’t any guarantee that the bizarre weapon wouldn't detect him. It was constructed and behaving well outside the normal range of sanity.

“We hear you loud and clear, Prime!” Bumblebee enthused into comms.

Transforming into vehicle mode, Bumblebee raced off and began directing the other mini-bots to fan out and search the rubble for any humans. Everyone was happy to have Optimus back, but Bumblebee was his staunchest supporter right now. The rest of Optimus’ soldiers obeyed as well, though some were less enthusiastic than others.

"So, explain this to me again," Sideswipe demanded as he nudged a car with his pede, checked underneath, and then ducked a brick thrown at his helm.

“Shut it,” Sunstreaker snapped, wincing each time some piece of debris bounced off his lovely plating. The wind was harsh, and Sunstreaker's short supply of patience running out as Sideswipe was still complaining mightily over being forced in the exact wrong direction; towards the quantum weapon and not away from it.

“Hey now! Technically _we're_ the endangered species here,” Sideswipe insisted as he checked another line of cars for any hiding humans. “According to their internet, there’s billions of these little squishies!”

“Shut up before we get scrub duty again,” Sunstreaker said while pulling another panicking squishie from a car. A floating globule nearly tagged him and he leapt backwards, his plating flared.

"I'm just saying that if seven or eight of them got ate by this thing, would anyone even notice?"

“Stuff a potato in it, seriously!” Sunstreaker said, watching as the globule vanished, blown away by the furious winds. The close calls kept coming, and it felt like sparklinghood was only a matter of time. He frowned and then carefully added the human to his growing collection. His brow ridges were furrowed in concentration as he did so, as he was doing his best not to smoosh them. Prime wouldn’t like that, he was certain.  Currently they were tucked between his fingers, and seemed to have full faith in him, which was surprising considering he outweighed them by a factor of _whoa_.

Sunstreaker stared down at his fistful of cheering squishies, all of them screaming adulation at him. He blinked several times and his sensitive optics whirred as they tried to focus on the little flashes of light aimed at his face. Then he realized they were taking pictures of him with their cellphones, and he instinctively turned his head so as to present his best angle.

“Legs!” Sideswipe waved his own squishie (a younger one that refused to stop recording the disaster with his cell phone) at Sunstreaker in emphasis. “They have their own set of legs, see?”

“Are you still talking?” Sunstreaker lifted his hand so his admirers were positioned above him and struck a heroic pose.

_Flash! Flash! Flash!_

 “The point is, why do _we_ have to–”

 **“Megatron, your idiocy knows no bounds!”** Optimus Prime roared after his fleeing nemesis, startling the twins a few blocks away and finally breaking the rules about contact. But he was well and truly torqued now. It might have something to do with all the panicky humans dangling from his fingers.

Mirage was bringing more, and the spy was starting to look well and truly spooked. He'd had more close calls then he was happy with, and the weapon seemed fully aware of him, to the point that he'd disengaged his invisibility cloak. Worse, his Prime was edging ever closer to the weapon in the distance.

"I wouldn't go much further," Mirage tried to warn Prime. He placed a handful of rescued humans down at Prime's feet and immediately headed back out for more, dodging globules and the occasional questing lighting.

Scowling after the retreating Decepticons, Optimus Prime knelt down and addressed the frightened humans. He forced comforting words past his lips, even though all he really wanted was to chase Megatron's vile aft down and defeat him once and for all _..._ preferably via many blows about the face and helm with his fists.

Memories burned behind his optics, and Optimus ached to finish this war that he had allowed go on for far too long. But right now, the humans needed him, and he focused on them as he must. And so instead of chasing Megatron down, he gathered up his tiny charges and started tossing them – very gently! – through the air like baseballs, sending them off to Ironhide to catch.

“We missed you,” a young woman said as Optimus lifted her next.

Her hair was a frazzled mess and her clothes were streaked with dirt. She hugged his thumb-joint, and Optimus’ optics softened as he gently peeled her off his hand and then sent her hurtling towards safety.

Fortunately for the Seattleites, the Autobots had plenty of experience pitching and catching delicate, flailing humans. It helped enormously that this was not the first Decepticon attack and Autobot rescue Seattle had seen.

"Going to be late again, honey," a young man with a sharp haircut yelled into his cellphone. He was holding on to Prime's strut with his free hand to keep from being blown away by the hurricane-force winds.

"Put it away," Optimus Prime commanded while ducking to avoid a probing lightening arm. Then he lifted the young man, who nodded and lifted his finger in a _just one second_ gesture.

"Looks like the Decepticons are attacking outside Starbucks again," the man said as he hurriedly finished his call, "I know, I know, love you, have to go now, sorry!" and a moment later he, too, was hurtling through the air towards Ironhide and safety.

 

*******

The evacuation was going well, all things considered.

The Seattle Police were used to ducking, dodging, and functioning around giant robot pedes, and they, along with the fire department, were hard at work using a corridor that was mostly clear to ferry the injured away.

On the Autobot side, only Blaster was still working his way out. In-between bouts of taunting the similarly retreating Soundwave, he was reporting slow but steady progress towards the edge.

The damage the quantum weapon was inflicting was both a blessing and a curse; it provided needed cover but made movement difficult. There were multiple buildings down and in the way of the human rescuers, but Gears was on rubble duty. Every time a police car or ambulance approached with lights blaring, he would heft it over the mess and back onto the road.

“Hey Ratchet!” Gears waved as Ratchet transformed, leaped over the rubble, and then transformed back into ambulance mode. “Careful out there, it’s a madhouse!”

“Just watch your own aft,” Ratchet grumped as he tore away, heading to collect more damaged humans to ferry to a nearby clinic for repairs. He tore past Ironhide, who threw him a fond look, though his complaining to Prime didn't slow.

“What in the name o’ Primus has Megatron done this time?” Ironhide hollered as he hunched down like a baseball catcher for the next volley. "What the slag is that thing even supposed to be?!"

“Megatron’s behavior has been growing ever more inexplicable,” Optimus agreed. His spark tightened with anger, and yet that feeling was peppered with a growing sense of unease. His resolve to answer all Decepticon aggression with unrelenting death was growing weaker by the day. It was especially eroded the longer he spent with his supportive Autobots and especially Bumblebee.

Even after all Optimus had suffered, vengeance found no fertile ground to take root in his spark. No matter how much they deserved it, Optimus found neither solace nor satisfaction in the deaths of enemy combatants.

Thanks to Megatron’s unmasked sadism, Optimus had initially accepted Prowl’s new protocols as justified for how far the Decepticons had fallen, and the bodies began to pile up. They _were_ making good progress, and yet his kindly nature – for better or for worse – was already trying to resurface. Eye for an eye, a death for death, it was the law of retaliation, the great equalizer, and the Decepticons had killed so many as to be damned countless times over.

Evil is as evil does, and yet how long would one watch one’s worst enemies suffer before deciding the debt was paid? Prowl and Jazz weren’t wrong and the Decepticons were still killing. They had to be stopped. And yet, pulling the trigger on downed combatants was getting harder and harder, and Optimus was already questioning their harsh stance with the Decepticons. Several times he’d stayed his hand upon hearing pleas for mercy, only to have one of his Autobots take the shot for him, citing the protocols.

His unease grew, though Prowl (and to a lesser extent, Jazz) firmly quashed those gentler notions. They both presented a united front, dual black and white proclamations of execution as the only way to end the war, even as they nurtured and comforted Optimus, helping to restore him back towards his old self.

The war had to end, and while Megatron remained in power, it seemed relentless violence _was_ the only way. Optimus shook his head, feeling overwhelmed with frustration, anguish, and a wretched sense of self-doubt. He forced himself to focus on the grim task at hand, while in the distance, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were busy grabbing the last few humans still in reach.

“Hey Sunny!” Sideswipe yelled, “Go long!” and threw a business squishie in an expensive suit high up into the air. The man went sailing by Prime's head while clutching his Starbucks Iced Hazelnut Macchiato, doing everything he could to keep the lid from falling off.

“Shit’s expensive,” the businessman cried defensively at the older woman giving him the stink-eye while they passed each other in mid-air.

Ironhide leapt forward, simultaneously leaping over a lightening arm and dodging a globule, even as he caught Prime's next batch of squishies. There weren't any more at Prime's pedes, and he took it upon himself to escort them. He started ferrying them to relative safety while grabbing a few stragglers as he ran.

"Follow me!" Ironhide called down to a cute couple with matching coats that were carrying a shell-shocked elderly woman between them. "Git 'round this building so _that thing_ don't find you."

Meanwhile, Sunstreaker charged forward and leapt, catching the business squishie with his mouth. It was the best he could do as both hands were already full. Then he, too, charged towards safety. Sideswipe joined him a moment later, both hands full of squishies negotiating video recording pricing via text with national news networks.

"Hey," the business man called while dangling from Sunny's mouth – his drink somehow still intact – and asked, "I know you're busy, but could I bum a ride to my apartment?"

"Is it far from here?" Sideswipe asked with a grin, "Because if it is then I think we can accommodate you."

Sunstreaker snorted derisively but followed ‘Side’s lead, and the two broke away from the craziness. The sneaky twins were being clever with their rescue operations; working _away_ from the maelstrom while otherwise noisily following their Prime's orders.

Not everyone was so put out by squishy rescue duty. For his part, Huffer was having a _cracking_ good time. He’d started cackling madly as soon as the insanity of the situation got far enough under his plating to register as hilarious. Now he was threatening everyone with wet-nursing if they were unfortunate enough to get tagged by the purple globules. A schadenfreude enthusiast, Huffer was downright cheerful for once as he dodged and darted his way across the besieged streets along with the other mini-bots.

Inferno, Red Alert, and now Ratchet were already sparklings and upon hearing news of the last, Optimus Prime was looking _particularly_ tetchy. It didn't help that comms exploded as mechs tried to lay claim to their various counterparts, with the argument over Ratchet dominating the airwaves. The Hatchet was particularly beloved as the party-ambulance tended to keep a full harem.

“ _I_ will take be taking care of Ratchet until a solution is found for our comrade’s predicament,” Optimus Prime snapped over comms. His firm declaration silenced the shouting match between Wheeljack, Ironhide, and now the twins over who would be responsible for bitty little Ratchet.

But there was no stopping Huffer now that his crank had been turned. He’d even uncovered his nodule – normally hidden behind the plating in the hollow of his neck – and was flashing everyone he could while offering to fuel any sparkling that needed it. ‘Dear sweet _Primus_ no,’ was the general response, much to Huffer’s wild delight.

The jokes were flying back and forth, but otherwise the situation was rather serious as mechs were concerned who would be taking care of whom if they got tagged _._ The twins in particular were refusing to promise to behave themselves, and the resulting panic was getting epic.

"No embarrassing pictures!" Tracks kept insisting over Sideswipe's threatening laughter.

 

*******

Optimus Prime was _not_ happy.

The disaster was spreading exponentially and though he was dead set on rescuing the humans that had foolishly ignored evacuation warnings, he was otherwise unsure how to stop the weapon itself. He was simultaneously listening to Prowl’s dour reports, Perceptor’s excited theories, and the human’s local news station coverage through his HUD, and was dismayed to see how much damage Megatron had inflicted in such a short time.

Optimus felt a surge of loathing for his old enemy as downtown Seattle was slowly consumed by the quantum weapon.

Not far away, Mirage was looking more and more worried. “Everyone promise me you won’t let Huffer fuel me,” he begged across internal comms for the umpteenth time. He and Optimus were far too close to the fruit of Megatron’s idiocy than was healthy. The lightening was getting thicker, and both were struggling to stay ahead of the grasping lightening.

"Sir," Mirage tried warning his Prime again, "Even if we reach the center of that thing, we have no idea how to shut it down!"

"Steady, Mirage," Optimus rumbled.

Optimus was unwilling to give up, even with Prowl nagging him over comms. He was still trying to reach the console and kept moving forward, working his way further and further into the danger zone. His pitching arm was getting a hell of a work out as he threw metal debris here and there, attempting to distract the lightening-arms.

Optimus was pushing his luck and he knew it, but still he edged closer. Currently only Starscream and Thundercracker were closer than him to the weapon itself, or at least close enough to the maw to try and do something. He could just barely see flashes of their colorful plating through the maelstrom.

“I think Starscream has reached the console,” Optimus called over his shoulder to Mirage, but there was no answer. Frowning, he looked back, but Mirage was nowhere to be seen. Forced to focus on his own predicament, he pitched an old ornamental phone booth at the next batch of lightening-arms heading his direction.

The lightening-arms swarmed over it, dragging it back towards the maw.

“Forget Huffer, Prowl can feed me anytime,” Jazz deadpanned over comms. Mechs snorted and snickered when Jazz leapt over a lightening arm while cupping his own headlights, but the object of his teasing didn’t even register a change in tone.

Prowl was too busy arguing with his Prime to react to such silliness. He was insisting that the only sound tactical response to this disaster was to regroup ... i.e. leave the rest of the natives to their fates and approach the situation from a different angle.

But Optimus Prime wasn’t having any of _that_.

"Autobots, continue rescue operations. I refuse to leave any humans behind-"

“Mr. Prime!”

Optimus turned towards the voice and caught sight of a young male human huddled under some debris. The human had a tinier human strapped to his chest that he was hunched over protectively, both arms wrapped around his precious armful. His eyes were wide and pleading, but his words were lost to the maelstrom now that he wasn’t shouting.

“I’m coming,” Optimus reassured the frightened human and made his way that direction.

In his comms, Prowl was still arguing and he scowled.

“Focus on rescuing the humans!” Optimus demanded again as he turned and cast father and son towards Ironhide in the distance. He watched as Ironhide caught them light as a feather and then tore away.

"I'm clear, Prime!" Blaster reported over comms a moment later. "Grabbed a bunch of humans on the way, didn't see any more."

Optimus watched with relief as the last of his Autobots vanished from sight, ferrying the last of the humans to safety. Then he called for Mirage to retreat as well, but there was still no reply. "Jazz, check these coordinates," he called over comms while tapping in the last place he'd seen Mirage. He had a bad feeling and all his instincts – along with Prowl – were telling him it was time to pack it up and flee.

Finally, after no further humans were spotted, Optimus Prime called for a full retreat. At that point, over half the Autobots had already left the battlefield as sparklings. That included little bitty Mirage, recovered by Jazz and now tucked all comfy in Huffer’s arms with Sideswipe merrily snapping pictures while Ironhide powered up his water gun for some much needed corporal punishment for the Autobot's resident pranksters.

Optimus knew he should turn back, but his spark was urging him onward. Now that he was the only one still in harm's way, Prowl's nagging intensified. Ignoring the nattering, he dodged another grasping set of arms and then started edging closer to the malfunctioning weapon.

“I understand Prowl, but this situation–”

But Prowl wasn’t interested in Prime’s heroic theatrics anymore. He was threatening to pull out the big guns … i.e. forced extraction ala _Jazz_.

"I hear ya loud an’ clear Prowler," Jazz said all lazy-like over comms. He was already preparing to head out to wrangle up his Prime, willing or not.

“Prowl, I am ordering you to–”

“ _No_ , Prime. As previously agreed, you will comply with the new protocols.”

Prowl wasn’t speaking about the part where Decepticons were terminated with no exceptions. He was talking about the part where Optimus Prime _survived encounters_ , with no exceptions.

Because they’d had a talk about this. It was a nice talk, all official and serious. It had happened after Optimus had been returned to them – a wretched, horrifying mess – appearing outside the Ark after escaping captivity after one of the most improbable rescues on record.

His return was nothing short of a miracle, and once the Autobots had patched Optimus up (and after days upon days of intense cuddling the likes unseen by Cybertronian kind before or since) the rest of his staff had sat his pitiful, self-sacrificing aft down and _forced_ Beloved Leader to swear he’d stop putting himself at risk. Assurances of less Primal Shenaniganry were on the record books, with Jazz acting as official enforcer, and now Prowl was holding Prime to his word.

“Official permission for forced extraction has been granted,” Prowl announced loudly over comms. “Jazz, you have permission to hog tie the Prime if he resists,” and no, Prowl wasn’t kidding. His tone was as calm and neutral as ever, but anyone who knew him could hear the edge in his voice.

Back at base, First Aid eyed the nearest tables with sympathy while preparing mountains of partially pre-digested energon formula and replicating thermal blankets.

"One moment," Optimus said, pleading for patience. “The weapon is almost in sight. This could be our only chance to shut it down without further loss to our human hosts.”

Peering at the weapon, Optimus could see Starscream in the distance. Already at the center of the disaster, Starscream was fighting with the weapon’s console and he seemed to be making some progress. The lightening-arms _were_ diminishing. But Starscream was having serious trouble keeping away from the globules, still spewing from the device in torrents.

Optimus Prime frowned, ducked more globules, and worked his way even closer. His spark burned towards the Decepticons for their unspeakable cruelty, but memories of sipping precious mouthfuls of fuel offered from nervous blue servos and fearful red optics quieted his rage. He remembered those brief moments of kindness from Starscream's trine, and had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t the only one to suffer at Megatron’s hands.

"Starscream!" Optimus shouted, wanting to offer help. But it was too dangerous. Even he could see that. Even worse, he'd crossed the line drawn by his second-in-command. It was a line he’d agreed to, and so with a heavy spark he turned to head back towards his Autobots.

"I am retreating as well," Optimus Prime reported over comms. He started to jog towards safety. The hurricane-winds buffeted his armor as he rumbled, "The area around the vortex is too dangerous to approach–"

But a roundish flash of purple in the corner of his optic startled him, and then his voice cut off an instant later.

 

*******

“Acknowledged, Prime,” Prowl said.

Prowl called off Jazz in the next breath and sounded satisfied. Then Prowl requested updates from every Autobot who could make them. He was starting a headcount, and wasn’t happy with the numbers coming back.

"Thank Primus almighty!" Ironhide shouted when it seemed all of the Autobots were accounted for. No one noticed how Prime had gone quiet just a klik too soon; everyone was busy regrouping a few miles away.

Arriving at the rendezvous point only moments later, the Twins transformed and Sideswipe’s grin was a mile wide. “So I bust into security and shut down the video feeds while you break into their quarters and paint their rooms–”

“I’m thinking pastels,” Sunstreaker said thoughtfully. The opportunities for prankery were too delicious and the twins were hard at work mapping out how they would be spending their evening.

Thirsty after all the excitement, Sideswipe subspaced a can of energon and cracked it open, offering the first sip to Sunstreaker and then taking the can back. He took massive gulps while watching Sunstreaker pull up old nursery motifs from Cybertron’s distant past for visual aids.

“I’m going to stop off at the Dollar Giant,” and Sideswipe interrupted himself to take another massive gulp of energon, “to pick up balloons and ribbons and those star wands with all the tassels, oh, and some pink tiaras, and maybe see if I can find any cute human protoform clothing!”

Then Sunny interrupted Sideswipe’s plotting by dropping his hand onto his twin’s shoulder. He pointed at the makeshift shelter the other Autobots had slapped together for the youthened Autobots, and they both stared in shock at the sight of all the little sparklings, particularly the _spectacularly_ adorable Ratchet.

Said bitty ambulance-of-many-grumbles was nestled in an empty tire with the others for safety, and he was pouting. One of his little fists was balled and the other was in his mouth. His optics were scrunched as he glared all about, the sheer size of them making him seem as if on the verge of tears.

“Sunshine!” Sideswipe cried as he reached for his vid-recorder to document the priceless moment for purposes of later blackmail, “Hold my energon–”

But Sunstreaker cut his brother off. “Not him. I’m up for anything else, but _not him._ ”

Sideswipe shot him a pleading look. Seriously, when would they ever get another chance at prankery of this caliber?!  

But it was a look that Sunstreaker ignored. “I think he wants his wrench,” he guessed, his lips quirking. He stared at Ratchet while casting around to see if he could find said tool before the dam burst.

Sideswipe recovered from his disappointment and started making ‘ _loooook how liiiitle’_ noises, even as Sunstreaker rolled his optics and grabbed Ratchet's wrench and straightened up. “You know he’s going to _kill you_ when Perceptor figures out how to get him back to normal, right?”

“What?” Sideswipe protested. “He’s too little to remember any of this,” even as Sunstreaker mimed being wrenched to death. Not that Sideswipe paid any mind. He was too busy yelping as a wee Grimlock chomped down on his pede, roaring as ferociously as a baby T-Rex could.

The results were _most_ questionable.

“Oh Primus,” Sideswipe laughed, and rolled Grimlock over like a naughty puppy. “This is too much.”

Meanwhile, Ratchet was sniffling and sucking on his arm-nub, his little optics scanning back and forth between red and yellow. The moment was too precious not to fully document for blackmailing purposes and Sideswipe dared pull out his vid-recorder again. He was still dripping for the hosing Ironhide had given him for his over-exuberance around sparkling Mirage.

Thankfully his vid-recorder was water-proof. “Smile for the Lamborghini, lil’ Hatchet,” Sideswipe cooed with a grin.

“Who’s cute? Who’s a cute bot?” and Sideswipe flicked his thumb, switching over to recorder-mode as Ratchet’s over-sized optics narrowed and he peeped, looking up at Sideswipe with a dubious expression. He looked up so far that he ended up rolling and falling onto his back with a surprised “beep!”

After snapping a couple more priceless recordings and image-stills, Sideswipe snatched Ratchet’s favorite wrench from his brother and tried to offer it to the sparkling. The massive (to sparkling Ratchet anyway) tool just rolled away.

_Disaster._

Ratchet watched it tumble with wide optics, and something curious happened. His little face oriented up on Sideswipe and his optics narrowed craftily, even as optic fluid pooled around the corners of his eyes. Then he sucked in a massive ventilation – quite possibly a full half of Earth’s atmosphere – and then he started _shrieking_.

His cry sounded like a cross between the battle-cry of an enraged goose and the shrill tones of a velociraptor with a toe caught in a blender, in other words, memorable. Shortly after, the rest of the sparkling Autobots followed suit, with the tiny Dinobots adding various squeaks and high-pitched attempts at roars to the hootenanny.

Alas for the twins, a certain aspect of sparkling biology was now in play … for tiny sparklings relied on adults for protection and their method of summoning help was a full spectrum call that could wake the dead.

Maybe not literally, but it sure sounded like it.

Alarmed, the twins clamped their servos over their audials and scowled accusingly at each other. As one of the aspects of that cry instinctively triggered base, protective instincts, the situation escalated when a furious Ironhide came charging around the corner with a small army of gun-toting Autobots in his wake.

“Alright, who’s takin’ the drink first,” Ironhide demanded, brandishing his water cannon. _Someone_ was going to pay for upsetting all these sparklings, that was for fragging sure.

Two identical deer-in-the-headlights looks later and the twins each pointed at the other – _it was him_ – and then Ironhide let them have it, full blast, Lamborghinis flying everywhere while little Ratchet laughed and laughed.

And then time stopped when the headcount came back and Prowl started cursing over the comms like he never did unless slag was _molten_ …

…they were one Prime short.

 

*******

“Screamer!” Thundercracker cried.

His thrusters fired full throttle as he darted towards his struggling trine mate. He twisted and turned in midair, only barely keeping ahead of the greedy lightening-arms. The brilliant light from the quantum weapon was dancing across the blue of his plating. In that moment he was exquisitely beautiful ... the epitome of his kind ... all sleek lines and graceful symmetry.

“Get out of here you stupid twit!” Starscream howled back.

Inside his cockpit, Skywarp was curled into a tiny ball. He was strapped in and weeping and those soft sounds were coming across the comms. He'd already exhausted his loudest shrieks and his whimpers were likely one of the reasons Thundercracker simply refused to flee.

"You better not get tagged because I am _not_ babysitting him, do you hear me?!" Starscream’s decibel levels slapped Thundercracker in the face – both sides! – as he fought with the quantum weapon trying to eat him alive. He struggled with the controls while clinging to the console as the lightening-arms tried to drag him away. Typing with one servo while the rest of his limbs were clenched around the rest of the console was difficult, but it didn’t stop his ranting one iota.

"I am not responsible enough to chase after sparklings! I _refuse_! He is going in _your cockpit_ and you are _feeding him_ and _cleaning him_ and he is _not my problem_ until he's back to full size!"

"Whatever! I'm not leaving you behind, so just hurry up and shut this thing down!" Thundercracker shouted back. He tried to land, but had to abort for the grasping tendrils still chasing him. He _was_ helping, as the device was too focused on catching him to turn its full attention on Starscream. It still had no concept the threat Starscream might pose, though things were getting more and more desperate as the kliks passed. 

Starscream wasn't a coward by any means, coming out here and risking his plating like this was wholly against his nature. He'd charged out here to spite Megatron, but now the weapon had a hold of him, and he couldn't break away; he was in for it.

He knew only his keen mind could save him now and doubled down. He’d sorted out the system error that was keeping the kill code from shutting down the main energy lines. He knew if he didn't shut this damned thing down now, the console would be engulfed. Then this wouldn't work anymore. The scientist in him fought his natural instincts to save his own plating via running away screaming and...

_...almost done!_

Now all he had to do was link it to his internal command system and key in the kill code. His keen survival instincts were starting to overwhelm him, though. There may have been a hint of total panic as he jabbed the kill code into his wrist keypad while struggling against the lightening arms yanking on him.

He hit the last key and grinned up in triumph and ... nothing. Well, not nothing. The thing did jolt and shrink a little, but then surged right back.

_What?_

He hissed in shock – _it should have worked!_ – and then he could feel more lightening arms wrapping around him. They felt strange, the dark energies crackling across his plating and he moaned when he realized the problem a moment later.

The super weapon was smaller as its energy sources had shut down. The kill code had worked. But the thing was large enough now to sustain its own dimensional link. Shutting down the energy flow was pointless. They would need another approach, but that was neither here nor there, because he couldn't break this thing's grip on him anymore. There were too many lightening-arms wrapped around him, and he could hardly move.

Then Starscream looked up and snarled when he realized his idiot trine mate was _still_ trying to reach him. “Frag me to the pit! It didn't work!" and he shrieked his failure up at Thundercracker, hating himself for being so stupid. Showing up Megatron wasn't worth his life! How could he have been so foolish?!

"It didn't work!" Starscream shrieked again, not that Thundercracker was listening. It seemed like no one ever listened and he getting sick of it … almost as sick as the feeling of the energy-hands that were trying to drag him back towards the horrifying vortex. They'd grasped him fully now. He fired all his weaponry as he fought, but try as he might, he couldn’t escape the dragging forces.

He was well and truly slagged.

Right about that point, a little one tumbled by him. The sparkling was tiny, smaller than Skywarp, a squirming roundish frame with oversized finial-nubs and blue and red plating; a diminutive Optimus Prime.

The Autobot leader had stayed out too long and accidentally sucked a globule into one of his dorsal vents. He’d received a massive dose of … whatever those things were, and the damage was done.

Unawares to his faction, Optimus Prime was tumbling helplessly towards the vortex. His tiny hand-nub snagged on a piece of twisted pipe, and then delicate little plating slipped, and with a squeak of mortal terror the sparkling Prime was lost into the yawning void.

Starscream, too, was losing his battle even as his idiot trine mate was _still_ trying to reach him. For Thundercracker could hear Skywarp sobbing his little optics out over their shared comms, and nothing Starscream said could convince him to cut and run.

Then an arc of lightening shot out and finally snagged Thundercracker. It dragged him through a globule, probably unintentional, but that was that. And so when the tiny blue seeker seekerlet tumbled past him, shrieking for help…

… Starscream made his choice.

Letting go of his death-grip on the console, Starscream twisted in midair and fired his thrusters like a mad mech. He snagged little Thunders and pressed him safely into his cockpit right as the vortex swallowed them whole.


	3. Dimensional Conundrums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything goes off the rails.

 

“Megatroooon!” Starscream shrieked, all weapons firing as he was dragged kicking and screaming into the maw of the quantum weapon.

Inside Starscream’s cockpit, Skywarp and Thundercracker were matching him shriek for shriek, and there may have been a small issue with leakage for all involved. It wasn’t the proudest moment for seeker-kind.

Then again, death did seem imminent.

The inside of the quantum weapon was as alarming as the outside. The center seemed semi-solid, and the outer layer was covered in pulsing energy-cilia. The inner depths were composed of a bizarre form of living energy and metal debris was greedily drawn to the center of the device, and instantly atomized.

Starscream was living up to his name as he was thrust against the center to be consumed, but when his frame came in contact with it, instead of disintegrating him, the weapon hesitated. Its cilia began undulating like the feet of a concerned pillbug turned wrong-side-up.

_Huh._

That was the general reaction to the ‘taste’ of Starscream’s flesh. Something about living metal seemed unappetizing, and having just encountered the exact same metal-type a moment before, the quantum weapon finally rejected Starscream as foodstuff.

_Yuk._

Starscream was instantly offended, but before he could think of a suitable insult, he passed right on through.

Suspended for a moment in space and time, Starscream found himself held captive beneath a massive silver spacecraft. The ship’s engine was emanating a powerful energy field and it had a gaggle of impressive red energy quills. The lights were flickering, as if the ship was in some sort of trouble.

And all around him, Starscream had the sense of others, countless others. They were whipping past in a steady stream … almost as if the ship was the focal point of some unspeakable chaos.

 

*******

 

**A few weeks before Getaway’s mutiny…**

 

The _Lost Light_ was past due for a bout of utter insanity.

The co-captains were keenly aware that things had been too calm and orderly for the last few weeks. It was unusual – not unlike the eye of a storm – and so when the ship’s engines went _ping_ during the latest warp jump, everyone knew they were in for it.

The night cycle had just ended, and Megatron, Rodimus, and Ultra Magnus were standing in the Lost Light’s small but functional bridge, scowling at the view screen with identical expressions of disbelief.

Rodimus was seated in the command chair as he was on shift, while Ultra Magnus and Megatron hovered around him. They were in the midst of a conference call with Brainstorm, and the info-dump they’d just received wasn’t going down very well.

Thankfully Swerve arrived a few moments later with Rodimus’ drink order, and began doling them out as the command staff shared worried looks. Because Brainstorm was still talking. He was still talking and nothing coming out of his mouth made any sense.

Swerve didn’t even try to eavesdrop.

Instead he nearly spilled their drinks for how distracted he was by the fantastic view outside. It wasn’t every day that one could see the omniverse from the outside-in. As such, he seemed far more interested in the windows then in making sure that command got their correct drinks.

“Wow guys! It’s getting crazy out there!” Swerve said, handing off the last of the drinks, ignoring how Ultra Magnus and Megatron clumsily traded theirs while trying not to touch each other; Megatron because he disliked physical contact and Ultra Magnus because he respected that Megatron didn’t like physical contact.

Leaving the empty tray on a nearby console, Swerve waved off the bridge crew’s murmured thanks and scurried over to the window, presumably for a better look. Thankfully he was being quiet so no one felt the need to immediately evict him.

And Brainstorm was _still_ talking.

“I know the definition of most of those words,” Ultra Magnus whispered to Megatron, “but the science confounds me.”

Megatron nodded agreement. He had ample experience with technical matters and even he was struggling to follow along. From what he could make out of Brainstorm’s briefing, their situation sounded particularly worrisome.

In the meantime, Swerve planted himself at the largest window. Grinning like a cat with a canary, he pulled out a microphone and tapped it, _tap-tap-tap_ while keeping his nasal sensor pressed to the reinforced glass.

“–is this thing on?”

Blaster yelled an affirmative from the communication console on the other side of the bridge, and Swerve grinned and cleared his vocalizer.

“This is _Swerve_ coming at you from the _Lost Light’s_ bridge! Everybody who isn’t, get your afts down to Swerve’s and grab your bingo cards – stacks are on the tables! – and get ready, ‘cause we are playing busted-multiverse bingo, round three!”

Three sets of startled command optics flicked over toward the window bay and Ultra Magnus gave Swerve a stern look. “If you aren’t here to help, then clear the bridge.”

“Indeed,” Megatron said, after carefully swallowing a mouthful of medical fuel. He winced, still put off by the taste even after so long.

“But this is the best viewing angle,” Swerve said, covering the mic with one servo while offering his best whine for the occasion. “How else will I conduct busted bingo?”

“Brainstorm, hold on, wait! Just … go over that last part again,” Rodimus said. He waved for everyone to quiet down, “and use smaller words.” He cast an optic over the rest of the command staff, and everyone nodded back. They all looked as perplexed as he felt. “And two syllables max, no exceptions. Yes I’m serious. Magnus is counting.”

Megatron rolled his optics, but Ultra Magnus looked game and Rodimus smirked at his co-captain, whispering, “I thought we agreed – after you insisted! – that whichever captain was on shift was handling any emergencies, no exceptions. Shouldn’t you be recharging by now?”

“No.” Megatron looked away; suddenly cross to be caught out by his own policy. His shift had ended hours ago, but he refused to leave. Rest was futile anyway, as no one was sleeping while the Lost Light’s engines were in a state of complete anarchy.

Pleased to have caught Megatron out, Rodimus’ fond smile lingered just a bit too long … and then it was Ultra Magnus’ turn to look cross.

Meanwhile, Brainstorm sighed loudly over the comm line and started over. “The damage to the engines is more severe than we thought. It appears that we have fractured space-time across the entire multi-phasic omniverse – and by that I mean all of our local dimensions _and everyone else’s_ – and like a knife in a stab wound, we are functioning like a plug that is _holding everything together_. We have fragged everything up to the point that our ship’s energy field is acting as a conduit for anyone traveling through quantum-based teleportation constructs.”

“Hey!” Rodimus snapped, “’Constructs’ has three syllables!”

Instantly irritated, Megatron’s mouth dropped open in protest, but before he could say anything, Ultra Magnus leaned over and provided the true count.

“-and Brainstorm is five total syllables over the limit,” Ultra Magnus deadpanned. He paused, and then looked disappointed when no one laughed. Tough crowd, but Megatron shot him a small smile and he felt a pulse of happiness.

“Whatever.”

Brainstorm muttered something unkind under his breath and continued, “luckily no one outside of the _Lost Light_ is being negatively affected as of yet. As long as no one is stupid enough to jump through a quantum teleporter without a programed exit point – and nobody would _ever_ do that – everyone is going to end up where they were planning on going anyway. They probably won’t even notice us.”

“Wait. So what happens if someone doesn’t have a programmed exit?” Ultra Magnus asked, now curious for Brainstorm’s dire tone.

“Well, depending on the angle they arrive at, they would either skip off the ship’s energy field and find themselves in some random parallel dimension, _or_ they would get sucked down and deposited in the pocket dimension formed at the bottom of our energy field; trapped forever in a sub-dimensional space going both ways. Probably.”

“What do you mean, both ways, forever?” Megatron asked.

Brainstorm was beginning to lose his patience. “I _mean_ , dimensional pockets are weird. So _don’t_ ask me to explain the details, you wouldn’t like it. Suffice to say, once they are opened, they stay open, and remain open, and were always open, going back and forward in both temporal directions.”

Megatron blinked.  “Alright, I won’t ask. But how do we know if anyone did have an accident while we’ve fractured infinity, and now require assistance to escape a pocket reality we are responsible for?”

Brainstorm scoffed. “We can’t. No way to tell who is going where for what reasons. And frankly, at that point they are already up slag creek without a thruster. Nothing we can do.”

“Well, at least we aren’t hurting anybody that isn’t already slagged,” Rodimus said. He sounded relieved and leaned back in his chair. Then he blinked as Swerve’s voice filled the sudden quiet.

“–win free drinks and fantastic fun! Are we ready for the next call out?!”

Blaster shouted another affirmative, and Swerve peered out the window again. “And I spy with my little eye … we have Starscream! Starscream everyone, and boy does he look torqued! …aaaand now he’s gone. Mark your cards, order another drink, and get ready for the next–”

Megatron scowled over at Swerve, who was loudly calling out the names of mechs he spotted out the _Lost Light’s_ massive side windows. “I thought we asked you to clear the bridge?”

“Rodimus says I can stay,” Swerve replied, “because I totally forgot to charge him for the two stupidly expensive drinks he ordered.”

Ultra Magnus whipped around so fast that Swerve would have sworn he’d have whiplash. “That is a clear cut attempt at _bribery_ of an official–”

“Swerve can stay,” Rodimus said distractedly, interrupting and waving off Ultra Magnus’ sharp look. He handed Megatron one of his glasses of free Energex, currently balanced precariously on the arm of the captain’s chair.

After offering Ultra Magnus an apologetic look for not backing him up – because Megatron was _not_ refusing a drink that didn’t taste like something Ravage had hacked up months previous – Megatron accepted the gift and nodded his thanks.

At the same time, Rodimus propped a leg over the captain’s chair and addressed Brainstorm again. “So. How are we – and by _we_ I mean _you_ – going to fix the engines?”

“Still working on it,” Brainstorm admitted, while in the background, Perceptor and Nautica were arguing some technical point. In between vomiting technobabble at command, Brainstorm was injecting his analysis during any pauses, and it was a veritable cascade of gobbledygook that no one on the bridge wanted any part of.

“Please keep us advised, Brainstorm,” Megatron called out, right as Rodimus killed the line with a sigh of relief.

Ultra Magnus shook his helm. “So now what?”

Megatron took another sip of his drink. “Now we wait.”

“–okay, so that makes three Megatrons, two Optimus – the last one looked like a monkey and ‘cause _I don’t even_ I am awarding anyone with back-to-back Optimi with double prizes – two Starscreams and a whack of mechs I don’t recognize so they don’t count–”

“Hey Swerve,” Rodimus interrupted, “you have any extra bingo cards on you?”

Swerve beamed and threw a few Rodimus’ way. Rodimus caught them and merrily selected one. Then he offered the other two to Megatron and Ultra Magnus. Both tried to decline, but he refused to accept no for an answer.

With a sigh, both Megatron and Ultra Magnus accepted theirs, and then everyone gathered around the windows and scribbled on their cards as Swindle called out the names of recognizable mechs as they passed.

 

***

 

“What in the _name_ of–”

––Starscream’s curse was interrupted as the strange ship vanished in the next instant and he fell off the edge of known creation, tumbling from _here_ to _there_ over the chorus of abruptly silenced seekerlet trills, the void refusing to transfer the vibrations and he felt a painful squeeze over every inch of his plating––

“––Megatron’s!––”

––thrusters burning at maximum but not doing him a lick of good as he tumbled end over end with the sense of crossing vast distances in a flash of blinding light cursing all the while he was dragged towards what would surely be an _entirely_ ignominious death––

“––rusty!––”

––seemed the Pit awaited his arrival with open arms and he had every intention of spending his last kliks alive besmirching Megatron’s stupid name, _damn him, damn him, damnhimdamnhimdamn_ ––

“–-cogs?!”

––only to be regurgitated down-side-up out the other side, still very much alive and hurtling towards the ground at _high rates of speed_.

Starscream nearly tore himself apart whirling in place to avoid crashing straight into the ground. He caught a streaking glimpse of a dim techno landscape as he managed an exquisite loop-de-loop, cutting his turbines and switching to thrusters.

Still too fast.

Starscream kissed the ground hard and then went rolling helm-over-pedes. Somewhere between rotations the seekerling trills started up again – his little trine mates were bouncing around inside him like popcorn – and he thought _well at least there’s atmosphere here_ and then he finally landed with a plate-denting _crunch_ at the bottom of a grey-metal trench.

Flat on his back, Starscream just lay there for a long moment, thoroughly dented. It took him a moment to recover; his ego was hideously battered and bruised. He’d scattered random rubbish in his tumble and now flecks of metal dust pattered down over him, until that faded away, leaving only a deathly quiet.

“You’re supposed to buy a mech dinner before beating his aft like that,” Starscream huffed. Not a subscriber to the ‘any landing you can walk away from’ school of hard knocks, he was relieved no one had witnessed his embarrassingly graceless arrival.

No one important, anyway.

Starscream’s wings twitched for embarrassment while inside his cockpit, Skywarp and Thundercracker were still dangling from various bits of his internal anatomy whist begging to differ; protesting the entire situation at the top of their vocal ranges.

Their noisy binary-blast squeaks filled his audials, but Starscream was used to irritating noise (though normally from more obnoxious sources) so it wasn’t hard for him to tune them out … and tune them out he did.

He was too busy staring up at the sky in amazement.

There was a star field above him, but it was not natural in any way. To his optical sensors it was a massive spiral galaxy cluster if seen through stained glass, brilliant points of light highlighting a kaleidoscope of colorful dust clouds. The visage rippled as if a sheet of countless magnifying glasses were between him and the whole of the sky, bringing small areas into startling focus while shifting other areas further away. It was bright, bizarre, and hauntingly beautiful.

Starscream just stared, drinking in the sight. His scientific background came to the forefront as he puzzled over what he was seeing. _Massive gravity fields must be warping the outside light,_ he realized. _This has to have something to do with that ship I saw._

 _Lost Light_ …

That was its name, and Starscream had recognized it as the same Autobot ship that had connected his reality with Universe IDW (so named by Shockwave) during a demonic invasion some time back.

 _It had a quantum engine,_ Starscream recalled. _Is that ship the reason for all the weirdness? And what is wrong with the sky?_ The closest match to the distortion he was seeing was a sub-space construct he’d studied on a microscopic scale back at the academy, though artificially constructed and always from the outside-looking-in.

 _Looks like I am inside some sort of sub-dimensional or even inter-dimensional pocket,_ and his optics traced over the exquisite mess, trying to make sense of the swirling patterns, but the sky was too jumbled to make out any of the constellations.

_Fascinating._

It wasn’t long before his survival instants came knocking, reminding him of the severity of his situation. He sucked in a vent, and the next thing he registered was the cold of the air – he would need to find shelter eventually – and the staleness of the atmosphere.

 _Grim as a tomb,_ Starscream thought while looking back at the spot he’d arrived from. _The aperture is missing,_ was his next thought, followed by _this means I can’t fly back the way I came,_ and that was bad. It was right about then that he realized he was up slag creek without a thruster.

 _Damn you, Megatron, damn you to the Pit…_ and there it was, full circle, all of his problems laid at the feet of one stupid mech.

Starscream repeated it like a mantra until his trine-mate’s cries became too loud to ignore. They were tag teaming him now, with Skywarp taking the lead in the squeaking vocals while Thundercracker provided the meeping background chorus. _Really now,_ and Starscream scowled as he was feeling put out with the entire situation. Being dumped in some hole was bad enough, but _sparkling-sitting too_?

It was too much.

He started looking around as if trying to find someone to dump these two little disasters on, but there was no one, and it wasn’t like he could just abandon them. No, he was stuck for it, proof positive that the universe was an unfair place.

Sitting up, Starscream inspected the two idiots that hadn’t listened to him. “Didn’t I tell you two to retreat?” he snapped at the two frantic little faces pressed against his cockpit glass. Then he opened his cockpit hatch with a _snick_ and grabbed Thunders by his middle, but with a _wharp_ Skywarp dodged his hand and rematerialized in his lap instead, still squeaking.

“Hmph,” Starscream grunted, and snatched ‘Warp up anyway. “Of course your warp core is still functional. That’s just what I need, a teleporting disaster.”

Skywarp was first up for military inspection, and his tiny wing-nubs were flailing like an overclocked traffic drone.

“Hush up and stop fooling around, you little menace,” Starscream demanded as he checked his trine mate for damage. “I’ve had it up to _here_ with the both of you. This is your fault for not listening to me.”

Starscream had no idea if they were even old enough to understand him, and when their distressed squeaks showed no signs of slowing, he assumed not. He flicked his wings, roundly irritated now, though their harsh tilt was offset by the gentleness of his hands as he turned Skywarp over and inspected him.

“No, scratch that,” Starscream decided aloud, baring sharp white denta. “This is Megatron’s fault for being such an idiot and not listening to me. _Damn him_ to the Pit.”

There was an unusually vicious undertone to his standard critique of Megatron’s mental facilities. These last few vorns had seen him suffer unusual amounts of punishment, well beyond what openly gunning for leadership should earn. Glorious Leader had smashed through all lines of propriety, pouncing on any opportunity to inflict punishment. He’d cited the flimsiest of reasons – sometimes real but mostly imagined – and his so-called ‘ _lessons’_ had taken dark and ugly turns. His shrewd use of restraints meant Starscream had been a captive audience as he wandered from scenario to scenario, inflicting his darker fantasies in the guise of punishment.

Starscream would never forgive Megatron those excesses.

The last punishment had gone on for so long that Starscream feared he wouldn’t be released at all. He was horrified to realize that he might actually replace Optimus Prime as Megatron’s personal pet. Days later he'd been unshackled and released, but he had a terrible feeling it was only his trine and Soundwave that had kept him from such a fate.

Finishing his inspection, Starscream was inwardly relieved to find nothing more pressing then a few dings in Skywarp’s bitty plates. Not that he’d let his worry show. It might resemble affection and that just wouldn’t do ... definitely not Decepticon, this spark-deep warmth he harbored for these two little glitches.

Meanwhile, ‘Warp was still pitching the batcher of all fits. His optics were pinched closed and his little wing-nubs were flapping out of control. The verdict was in: he wasn’t going to be of any help to Starscream like this.

“Hmm, at least _you_ seem much the same, anyway,” and Starscream turned Skywarp upside down and gently dangled him, “and as articulate as ever. Really, I don’t know what your problem is.”

 _Wait_.

Did Skywarp just narrow his eyes?

Tilting his helm, Starscream peered intently at his squeaking little trine mate, but he couldn’t be sure. Finally he just shrugged and stuffed Skywarp back into his cockpit.

_Whatever._

“Didn’t I tell you fools this was going to end in disaster?” Starscream said as he turned his attention to the next sparklet up for inspection. Thundercracker was a solemn little mech-let in contrast, having traded in his squeaking for mild sniffling.

“No one listens to me anymore. I warned everyone that quantum constructs are not to be used lightly, and certainly not in combat situations.” Starscream continued to complain as he turned the little blue frame over, his fingers firm but careful.

Thunders tracked Starscream’s scowling visage with curious optics and a solemn expression, entirely trusting of the servos handling him. He stuck his arm-nub in his mouth and sucked on it, but otherwise seemed to be listening intently.

The complaints came faster and faster as Starscream warmed to the matter at hand – Megatron’s failings being one of his favorite topics – and continued towards what was sure to be an epic rant.

“Everyone who isn’t a complete glitch knows better than to muck with things they don’t understand. I warned Megatron that the Constructicons didn’t have the expertise necessary to modify something so inherently unstable!”

Starscream cycled his cockpit open and gently deposited Thundercracker inside, his ranting going long for his captive audience. “Especially after slagging _Shockwave_ refused the project, but did old bucket-head listen to me, noooooooooo–”

Meanwhile, Thunders had spotted something. He started waving his little arms at Starscream, while next to him, ‘Warp was busy licking Starscream’s cockpit glass.

“Hey, quit that,” Starscream wiggled his middle threateningly, but ‘Warp just rolled over on the pilot seat and started giggling, his mobility gluteal spinning. His happy flailing bonked Thunders on his aft, which sent him down onto his front with a little squeak.

Sitting up, Thunders insisted on pointing his teeny finger down at the ground, and Starscream’s optics quirked. His attention was recaptured, and this accomplished two things actually; it made Starscream take note of the bit of dreck not far away _and_ alerted him that his trine mates were worse off then he’d realized.

_Are their minds still intact?_

Starscream ignored the slightly shifting dreck – _anything so small isn’t likely to be much of a threat_ – as he pondered the disturbing implications. Was it better or worse if they retained their adult minds, and were trapped in sparkling bodies?

Back to scowling, Starscream reached in and lifted Thunders until their optics were microns apart. “Blink at me if you remember what you said to me right before we left base, _and_ you remember how criminally wrong you were.”

Thunders stared at Starscream and his tiny face pinched ... “at least things can’t get any worse” was what he’d said. Well, things were worse, and he _was_ criminally wrong. Thunders admitted defeat by dropped his tiny helm and offering Starscream a good, long blink.

Such surrender was rare from this particular trine mate, as normally Thundercracker’s intuitions were dead on. But Starscream couldn’t enjoy the moment. He was too busy absorbing the horrifying reality; his trine mates did indeed have their adult minds trapped in seekerlet bodies.

But there was something more, and Thunders clasped his helm and wriggled as if trying to hold on to something. It took a moment for Starscream to figure out what he was trying to say. _Their minds are fading away to match their ages,_ he realized and his optics softened for a split second. _Perhaps for the best if there is no cure for this._

He couldn’t imagine reliving sparklinghood as an adult. Not to mention it was going to make certain needed interactions even more uncomfortable than before. _They are too young to take fuel directly. If we don’t make it back fast enough, I will have to feed them with my own nodule,_ and Starscream joined that thought with a shudder and a nervous eye twitch. _Oh, how awkward._

Nervous, Starscream turned Thunders over and checked, and sure enough, his fueling panel – a small patch of conductive metal at his chin – brightened for the proximity to Starscream’s throat-nodule. It was a firm reminder of certain responsibilities, which he ignored and intended to ignore for as long as possible.

 _All I have to do is get home in the next few hours_ , he told himself. After that, he was certain he could pawn these two off on Soundwave for all the feeding and cleaning and other messiness, as Soundwave was extremely partial to sparklings, which was normal for carrier mechs.

Meanwhile, Skywarp was _still_ licking his plate glass, tootling uproariously, and Starscream just shook his head.

So much for maturity…

A faint rustle in the distance reminded him that Thunders had been trying to warn him of something. He stepped forward and scuffled about in the dreck with his pede. His curiosity was subdued for the mundanity of the task, and he had the look of a mech only reluctantly uncovering what was probably just a turbo-rat’s hidey-hole. Then his optic-ridge lifted when he recognized what he was seeing.

“Oh,” Starscream snorted. “It’s just _you_.”

Starscream knocked the last of the concealing rubbish away and snatched up the sparklet who’d been huddled there. The youngster fit within the palm of his hand; an amazingly tiny Optimus Prime.

Optimus was extremely young, comprised almost entirely of over-sized audials, massive optics, and a round mobility gluteal. He had only the suggestion of arm-nubs, and seemed younger then both Thunders and ‘Warp.

Starscream’s lips quirked as he looked the red and blue sparklet over, turning the concerned little frame upside-down and then right-side-up

Then he shrugged.

“Sorry Thundercracker, but this,” and Starscream dangled Optimus over his cockpit glass, “falls under ‘not my problem.’ I may be stuck with you two, but frag me to the pit if I am dealing with _three_ of you.”

Cold and cruel, perhaps, Starscream conceded, especially after seeing Thunder’s horrified look. But this was a good thing for all Decepticon kind as there _was_ that tiny detail of Optimus Prime waging a war against their rule and wanting them all dead.

Dangling from Starscream’s servo, Optimus didn’t offer a single meep in protest. He merely tensed his little self in preparation for being dropped. He scrunched his optics closed, and if he was surprised to be found and abandoned almost within the same breath, he didn’t show it. If anything, he looked relieved. He seemed just fine with being abandoned if it meant not being handled by Decepticons.

Starscream couldn’t find fault with that. Not after all that had happened. Decision made, he was just about to pitch the helpless sparklet over his shoulder for fate to sort when audial-piercing shrieks filled his audials.

Apparently his little trine mates disagreed with his plan. An outraged Thunders started the tantrum but ‘Warp merrily joined right in.

 _Oh yes,_ Starscream thought with a cringe, _sparklings are equipped with high-frequency cries as a defense mechanism._ How had he forgotten? _Probably because I haven’t seen one for fragging eons and now I have three!_ His wings twitched in irritation for the thought. _This little field trip is shaping up to be a complete and utter disaster…_ but it seemed there was nothing for it, not if he valued his audials and sanity.

“Oh _alright_ ,” and with that Starscream formally surrendered to his noisy charges. “We’ll take him with us. But he is riding with you two, and I don’t want to hear one beep about it, because this is your idea, not mine.”

Starscream started walking then, his wiggling new responsibility still held firmly in hand, and both were making low grumbling noises, or in the case of Optimus, low grumbling peeps.

Even after Starscream’s surrender, it took some time for ‘Warp and Thunders to quiet down. It seemed the warriors-turned-sparklings were still captive to the needs and physical wiring of their frames.

It was at this point that Optimus started meeping. Every bit as captive to his frame as the other two, he was unconvinced he was any better off than being trapped under a pile of metal rubbish. His growing fear was translated by his frame as needing to be broadcast to the nearest adult audials as a problem that needed fixing, _stat_.

Terrible news: Starscream was the only adult audials within range.

It was a horrifying prospect, and Oppy saw Starscream’s scowling face past his blurry optics and promptly meeped even harder. That set Thunders and ‘Warp off again, causing a chain reaction of flapping wing-nubs, shuttered opticals, and high-pitched meepery.

“I hate my life,” Starscream moaned with drooping wings, optics rolling skyward, every bit as unhappy with his charges as they were with him. But there was nothing for it. They were stuck with each other.

And so Starscream ignored the noise and forced himself to focus. He turned in a slow circle, trying to pick the mostly likely direction to find shelter. The metal buttress he was standing on reminded him of the outer hull of a massive ship – maybe even an orbital station – and that might mean shelter and perhaps even answers.

The northern reaches looked to be his best bet, and Starscream took to the air, jetting forward on his thrusters. Even though it slowed him, he remained in robot mode while still uncertain where he was heading.

He hated not having a plan.

At this point the meeping had calmed, and Starscream remembered he was still holding Optimus Prime in his servo. He paused in mid-air to open his cockpit, intending to stuff him inside. The sheer lunacy of that hit a moment later – he was putting his _most dire enemy_ in direct contact with his sensitive internals – and he decided precautions were to be taken.

“Oh don’t look at me _like that_ ,” Starscream said while trussing up the already tiny, utterly helpless Oppy.

Thunders didn’t obey. Thunders looked at him _like that_ as hard as he could and even the carefree ‘Warp seemed dubious. Both seekerlets tracked the proceedings with their oversized optics, their helms moving in perfect synchrony.

“Cheep?” Skywarp inquired, registering a complaint with the proceedings while simultaneously pushing little Thunders off the cockpit chair.  

With a squeak of outrage, Thunders tumbled down to the footrests while ‘Warp peered down at him from the coveted cockpit spot, his huge round optics wide with fake innocence, completing the look with a playfully cocked helm.

Then Starscream shooed ‘Warp away and deposited his third responsibility snuggly in his cockpit chair, complete with confining seat belts. This displaced ‘Warp onto Starscream’s internal control panel, to his annoyance. It had a decent view, true, but the cockpit seat was vastly more comfortable

“Beep,” Optimus said as the seatbelts snapped snuggly around him, keeping him and his round little mobility gluteal firmly in place. His gyros whirred and disapproval radiated from him like the glow from a star.

“What did I say about beeping?” Starscream demanded as he snapped his cockpit closed.

That trapped the three little disasters safely inside ... safety being relative, of course. They could still reach each other and there wasn’t a lot of room in Starscream’s cockpit. The narrow cockpit control panel and chair were the only good spots for any sparkling wanting a decent view of the outside.

For his part, Optimus was less than thrilled with his new travel companions. He was forced into the most coveted spot – the cockpit seat – as Starscream returned his skepticism and wanted him strapped down for safety. This meant the other two were left with the uncomfortable control panel or footrests for space, and so no one was happy right now.

Well, all except Skywarp, who couldn’t be happier.

Skywarp’s personality was well suited to handling random, insane turn of events. His moods came on like sudden storms and cleared just as fast. A shameless troublemaker, he quickly embraced his situation, intent on taking advantage of the many opportunities for amusement this situation had to offer.

After deciding that watching Optimus was boring, ‘Warp teleported outside of Starscream’s cockpit, landing squarely on Starscream’s helm. With a beep of surprise, he had to hold on with all his might - that is to say, only barely - as Starscream zoomed northward.

Then ‘Warp squeaked in protest when Starscream reached for him. “Stay in my cockpit,” Starscream grumbled up to the seekerlet clinging to his helm like an insect clinging to a car going a bazillion miles per hour. “You can’t fly, remember?”

‘Warp offered a disappointed chirp and with a _wharp,_ reappeared in the middle of Starscream’s cockpit console, looking pleased with himself. Seekerlet though he may be, he still had warping down to a science.

Meanwhile, Optimus Prime was still belted up to the nines, still treated as if he was some sort of threat. His bright eyes were narrowed into a firm frown, and he was emitting soft little beeps of disapproval. It was a sad little sound, though he didn’t intend it so, and the soft noise _did_ move Starscream’s almost non-existent spark, just a little.

“This isn’t my fault,” Starscream defended himself, peering down at his cockpit at the miniature Prime. “I tried to stop Megatron, seriously!”

“Beep,” Optimus said. He looked unimpressed and then fell quiet again, wiggling his bum around to get a little more comfortable, while quietly frowning at everyone within frowning range. Who knew the mech was so good at sulking?

Soon ‘Warp was back to entertaining himself by smashing Starscream’s internal controls with his little arm-nubs ... _tap tap tap_ ... so many little levers and doohickeys and thingamabobs and dials and ... _tap tap-tap-tap-tap_... _arrrggg_ must push them all right now all at once!

_Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-_

Starscream scowled as his armature lit up and his ailerons flexed and multiple random programs opened inside his HUD. He considered shutting everything down, but it all seemed rather harmless, and at least ‘Warp was being quiet.

_-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-_

_-poot-poot!_

Two sleek missiles exploded out of Starscream’s armature, whistling through the air and detonating a little too close for comfort.

Starscream felt a wash of hot air over his back and wings while ‘Warp squeaked happily for the carnage and went to smash the firing mechanism again, only to frown when nothing happened, as Starscream had locked down all his levers and doohickeys and thingamabobs and dials.

‘Warp sat back, disappointed when the command panel went dark, while Oppy continued to glare up at Starscream. He was far from mollified, even with the apology, but at least he was quiet about it.

But the peace didn’t last, because ‘Warp _would not stop_.

_Wharp!_

He rematerialized on Starscream’s helm again, insisting on riding shotgun, but this time Starscream was really moving and the G-forces were too much for him. He immediately lost his grip and fell, too little to fly.

Apparently he’d forgotten.

“Meep!

        meep!

             meep!

                   meep!

                      meep!

                        meep!"

Starscream dove after him, screeching, “I said stay in my cockpit you little-!”

 

*******

_So that’s what happened to it._

Starscream banked for a better look after finally recognizing what he was flying over. The Decepticon symbols splashed over everything helped cinch it. He’d found their missing war world.

It had been lost during their first attempts at constructing a quantum-powered device and Starscream was already piecing together how it might be that he would end up _here_ of all places.

 _The Constructicons adapted Shockwave’s previous experiment into Megatron’s quantum weapon,_ Starscream remembered as he turned to follow a canal that would take him towards the nearest entry point. _It would make sense that in their buffoonery they never bothered to change any of his original configurations beyond what was necessary to convert the device into a weapon._

 _The initial tests were a failure as well,_ he remembered, which had pulled Shockwave back into the project. He smirked as he remembered the complaints. Shockwave had been bearings-deep in another project and hadn’t appreciated the disruption.

 _Shockwave was lucky to be too far away to face the fallout of the cat incident,_ and Starscream chortled. It had been a harrowing time for everyone, but the memories still filled him with glee.

Starscream was banking when movement on the horizon caught his optics. He dropped down to the ground and his wings flared, his warrior instincts propelling him towards the two figures in the distance. He had questions, and whoever these people were, they were going to give him answers _or else._

Starscream was so keen on them that he momentarily forgot his passengers until he felt ‘Warp try to mess with the belt buckle, attempting to free Optimus so that ‘Warp could take his spot on the coveted cockpit seat.

“Stay quiet,” Starscream ordered, wiggling his middle for emphasis.

Then Starscream crept forward, his keen senses warning him to stay out of sight. The two mechs were colored black and purple, and they were chatting with each other as if they were friends. They looked identical to each other, faces obscured by masks with red optic-slits, and they strongly reminded him of vehicon drones.

 _But drones weren’t in use during the time of Shockwave’s projects_ , Starscream remembered with a suspicious frown. _They were too expensive._ This war world shouldn’t have a contingent of them, and a further mark against them was that they weren’t acting like sparkless constructs. He was certain they were wearing Decepticon sigils, but their behavior gave him pause. It was distinctly odd, and his instincts were screaming warnings and so he didn’t show himself.

Instead, Starscream just watched as the two mechs unlocked a makeshift hatch and then sealed it behind them. He was considering following after them until a scuffle in miniature broke out inside his cockpit. Sneaking around was probably not the best option here, and so he straightened with a sigh and stepped back, resigning himself to find another way inside.

“What is the matter now?” Starscream demanded.

His wings flicked in irritation when all three sparklets promptly pointed their various arm-nubs at each other in outrage. But the problem was clear enough; there wasn’t room for everyone to sit wherever they liked. To make matters worse, ‘Warp refused to take turns sitting on the console with Thunders, and like most people everywhere, the most immature person present set the bar for everyone else.

Alas for everyone, maturity was in short supply and it showed. With a groan, Starscream shirked his mediator duties and transformed and jetted away, deciding to see if he could find a better way in.

Meanwhile, the situation inside his cockpit continued to degrade. The argument was rather one-sided as ‘Warp was older than Thunders by at least a megacycle and had proper control over his limbs. A human would deem him a toddler, while Thunders had yet to pass the wheeling-around-on-one’s-aft phase.

Optimus was even further behind, as his finer movements more resembled uncoordinated flailing than anything else. Oppy’s options may have been limited, but Thunders refused to allow his disadvantage to slow him any. What he lacked in dexterity he made up for in sheer determination, even when ‘Warp totally cheated and teleported Thunders off the console.

_Wharp!_

“Meep!”

Optimus watched the kerfuffle while trying to keep out of the way. He couldn’t help being on the cockpit seat; he was belted in nice and tight thanks to Starscream. His concerned beeps grew louder and louder, added to the growing noise until finally Starscream realized he’d have to intervene.

On a whim, Starscream pulled up his treasured recording of Megatron trapped and transformed into some sort of Megacat and played it for the fussy sparklings.

It worked.

The sparklings settled instantly, big optics swiveling to peer at his imbedded vid-screen monitor as Glorious Leader was snuggled by some other dimension’s Optimus Prime. It was an innocent scene, a dreaming mech cuddling his dream-techno-cat with a happy smile on his face plates … except for said cat’s reaction.

Megatron’s claws were fully extended and he was yowling – honest-to-Primus _yowling_ – and hearing _that_ voice make _that_ sound had Starscream choking back giggle-fits all over again. The sparklings were similarly amused and started squeaking in chorus …none louder than Optimus himself; optics teary, beeping hysterically, simply overcome with amusement.

It was a lovely sound.

Starscream relaxed and returned to his musing, thinking back to when Shockwave had covertly contacted him regarding the project. Shockwave’s concerns had been wholly disregarded by Megatron, which was unusual.

There was a reason Shockwave’s initial experiments had been deemed a complete failure, and Shockwave  had once again proven how out of touch he was with the inner workings of his faction when he suggested that as second-in-command, Starscream might have better luck convincing Megatron to be sensible.

Starscream had laughed himself bitter over that, remembering how frustrated Shockwave had been when Starscream had ripped all his suggestions into confetti. Yes, _obviously_ he’d spoken with the Constructicons, all of whom had been of no help. Scrapper was fully aware his team was in over their collective helms. They’d been under the gun (literally) to provide Megatron what he wanted, with no other alternative.

“There’s no other option but to kill him,” Starscream remembered insisting. He’d never one to miss an opportunity and had tried to bully Shockwave into helping him deal with Glorious Leader. His threats hadn’t gone over well.

Shockwave had merely cut the line and then sent him an oh-so-helpful schematic of the quantum weapon both before and after the modifications, complete with dour-penned notes on all the ways things could go horribly, horribly wrong.

 _Shockwave wasn’t wrong,_ and Starscream’s face twisted, then relaxed as a brighter thought occurred. _Perhaps those schematics will be useful to me here._

Beneath him, the dusky-gray landscape whipped by, and he could tell that the massive ship (almost large enough to be considered a moon if one squinted properly) was entirely unpowered. Shelter and fuel were Starscream’s first priorities, and that was best served by getting inside the war world. He was getting close to the entry point when inside his cockpit, three little sparklets formally declared war on each other.

Well, Thunders and ‘Warp declared war.

Optimus was trying to wriggle as far away from them as possible, and thanks to the seatbelt and cramped confines of Starscream’s cockpit, he kept randomly bumping the other two, adding to the storm of scowls, flapping wing-nubs, beeps, meeps, and overall unhappiness.

“I said sit down and be quiet!”

Starscream was shouting through his intercom, though his inability to do more than yell in jet mode made compliance a questionable prospect. And yes, they were _definitely_ ignoring him now.

“I swear to primus I will TURN THIS JET AROUND if you three don’t stop–”

_Oh._

He’d passed the entry point while trying to regain control of the situation. Grumbling, he cut his thrusters entirely and dropped like a rock. Well, sort of like a rock … maybe a very small one lacking in all ambition. The war world’s artificial gravity generator was offline and the only thing grounding him was its own natural gravity, which was very weak.

As Starscream dropped, all three sparklings burst into a three-beep brouhaha and redoubled their efforts to pummel each other into scrap, requiring the intervention of an adult to save them from themselves.

“Oh for the love of–”

Starscream transformed and landed with a barely a sound as genteel puffs of dust swirled around his legs. If someone within rock-throwing distance saw him land and pointed him out to a disbelieving companion, Starscream was too distracted to notice.

“Alright, that is _it_ ,” Starscream howled, at his wit’s end. His cockpit opened with a _snick_ and he reached inside, grabbing all three sparklings at once. The seatbelt retracted in the same instant, and that noise was combined with a panicked “meep!” from Optimus, who didn’t have the trust in Starscream that the others did.  

It was probably a basic fear reaction, though to be fair, Starscream’s bark was worse than his bite. Most of his ire was directed at his little trine mates who were _still_ slap-fighting each other over their own shrieks, completely ignoring him.

Optimus was pronounced innocent by Starscream and plopped back into the tiny cockpit while Starscream pulled out his best threats for the two seekerlets dangling from his fingers. It was the sort of yelling he’d indulged in when they were adults, which they were currently _not_.

The results should have been entirely expected.

“Wait, wait, don’t–!”

Too late.

Both seekerlets exploded into high-pitched cries – a veritable fountain of meepery – and Starscream gave up with a long-suffering groan. Stuffing his little trine mates back into his cockpit, he closed his cockpit hatch and watched in disbelief as ‘Warp cheered up instantly and triggered the manual belt release lever. That released Oppy, who perked up only to emit a startled “beep!” when ‘Warp promptly pushed him off the cockpit chair.

In the meantime, Thunders managed a death grip on the seatbelt and the two little seekerlets went straight back to fighting over the much-coveted cockpit seat with its better view while beneath them, Oppy’s huge, irritated optics glowered up from the depths of the foot cubby.

“ _Meep_ ,” Oppy said in stern disapproval.

“I can’t _believe_ this!” Starscream face-palmed, smacking himself with both hands for the sheer insanity of it all. Then he snarled down at his cockpit, everything else momentarily forgotten in his irritation. Anyone wandering over to investigate would have seen a grown-aft Decepticon Warrior Elite shouting down at himself saying things like “don’t you _dare_ hit him again” “what did I just say?!” and “I will _dump you_ into the nearest _sharkticon puddle_ if you don’t–”

“I think he’s crazy,” said a familiar voice.

It was a comically loud whisper, as if the speaker was trying to be overheard, and Starscream whirled to face whoever had spoken. He activated his internal weapon systems in the same instant, his null rays at the ready, though he wasn’t prepared for what greeted him.

The moment was nothing short of surreal.

Thundercracker and Skywarp were standing behind him. They were adults and sporting their older, pre-earth frame types. Their angles were off, maybe a little rounder then he was accustomed to. Unsurprisingly, they were watching him with dubious expressions, and seemed worried about his state of mind.

Starscream could only agree. His sanity was being held hostage by three unmitigated squeak-masters and his situation was getting weirder by the moment. Even he was starting to question his own processor, and normally he was his own biggest admirer. It was all very concerning, and there was only one thing to do in a situation like this: besmirch Megatron’s name.

“What in the name of Megatron’s _filthy, rust-infested bearings_ is this?”

The alternate Skywarp perked up. “Oh, he’s definitely ‘Screamer.”

“Don’t call me that! I _know_ who I am! The question is, who the frag are you two?!” and Starscream threatened them with a fist, his blaster, and both null rays. Too much, this was all too much, and now Starscream was itching to start shooting.

Gunfire always helped.

“You want my rank and serial number?” Thundercracker deadpanned, and his lips quirked while beside him, Skywarp was just about to say something tetchy when a sudden _wharp_ interrupted their terse introductions.

‘Warp had rematerialized on Starscream’s helm, and now he was staring at his adult self in sheer wonder.

The adult Skywarp caught sight of him and his optics boggled. “Look how _adorable_ I am!” Skywarp gasped, slapping both servos to his face.

Thundercracker stared as two oversized audials followed by huge blue optics peered out from inside Starscream’s cockpit. Oppy’s optics narrowed and then he beeped in surprise – little Thunders was climbing Oppy like a tree so he could see, and then both sparklets tumbled down into the footrests.

Thundercracker stared at Starscream and his gaggle of sparklets in disbelief. “I … take it you have a story to tell.”

“Congratulations, you just won an award for understatement of the megacycle,” Starscream snarked, and reached up to grab ‘Warp.  Then there was a _wharp_ sound, and then ‘Warp was sitting on Skywarp’s helm instead.

Starscream reared back, startled by the intense fear that shot through him at the thought that ‘Warp might be harmed, and his null rays hummed menacingly.

But Thundercracker held out his hand and flicked his wings placating. “It’s _us_ , Starscream. We won’t hurt them, or you. Things aren’t going well here and we need you. And you are going to need us for the same reason, so take it easy.”

With a wary frown, Starscream powered down his weapon systems.

Meanwhile, Skywarp looked delighted and carefully reached up and took hold of his tiny self. He then spent several moments making the most undignified cooing noises ever emitted by seeker kind, all to ‘Warp’s intense delight. Finally! Someone who appreciated the situation as much as he did!

Starscream was not impressed. “Like you’ve never seen a seekerlet before,” and he rolled his optics while Thundercracker took the distraction as an opportunity to slip in closer and peer into Starscream’s cockpit glass.

“I don’t remember ever being that small,” Thundercracker murmured, even as Skywarp shot Starscream a silly look.

“I’ve never seen _me_ as a seekerlet before,” Skywarp defended himself, and then tickled ‘Warp, grinning when the tiny frame doubled over and exploded into giggles. “I shall call him … **mini-me**.”

It was obvious by his tone that he was quoting something, probably from Earth media. Starscream found it just as annoying as ever. It wasn’t fair as _no one_ should ever be subjected to this much Skywarp. He had no idea what Skywarp was even saying, which made for _two_ incomprehensible Skywarps ... Skywarpeese ... Skywarpes?

 _What is the plural for two Skywarps? I have no idea … Megatron would know_ and that thought made him scowl. He dropped his hands to his hips, growing tetchier by the moment.

 _Whatever_.

The important thing, the disastrous thing, was that he had more than one Skywarp on his hands. That was one Skywarp too many, and he said so.

“Who asked you? Let’s take a vote, who loves having more of me around?” Skywarp raised his arm, and on his helm, ‘Warp raised his arm-nub and wiggled it, and then Skywarp grabbed a startled Thundercracker’s arm and raised it with a grin.

Skywarp warped away before Thundercracker could do anything about it, then crowed victory. “Hah! We win. This … is … _awesome_!”

Starscream offered up his most witheringest of glares, all to no avail as Skywarp – the both of them! – just ignored him.

“Come on.” Thundercracker pulled on Starscream’s arm while offering him a sympathetic look. “We are trapped here too. It’s a long story. We have a plan, but we need your help to escape.”


	4. Long Way Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Starscream faces the inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: There is a distinct possibility this story started because I wanted to use the phrase “Antlered Leader” in a serious sentence and then got completely carried away. :P
> 
> Also, the Cyclonus in this story is NOT regular Cyclonus, but the Armada version, same with Demolisher, Skywarp, and Thundercracker.

 

It _was_ a long story.

Thundercracker filled Starscream in on the details as they made their way towards a hidden hatchway, one that would lead them deep into the bowels of the war world.  

Thankfully the quiet drone of their voices had soothed the sparklets into recharge – including Oppy who was snuggled between ‘Warp and Thunders – resulting in a comfortable purring pile of little dreamers nestled in Starscream’s cockpit. It was just as well that they were so deeply asleep. Because by the time Thundercracker was finished, Starscream was certain he’d finally lost his processor.

“So you are saying we are all trapped in a sub-dimensional pocket and there are _two_ versions of Megatron here.”

“Yes.”

“They worked together to figure a way out.”

“Yes.”

“They managed to cobble together a working teleportation device.”

“Yes.”

“And then, instead of just leaving this slaghole together, they decided at the last possible second _to double-cross each other_ which _fragged everything up_ and — while still trapped! — chose to waste all their remaining resources waging war on each other for revenge.”

Thundercracker’s face fell. “Yes.”

“Un-fragging-believable.” Starscream’s palm-meet-face smack echoed around the cramped trench they were walking down. How many times had he done that today? He’d lost count, and the day wasn’t even over yet!

“That was my reaction as well,” and Thundercracker’s wings drooped.

“But… _why_?”

“The teleporter was limited,” Thundercracker explained, “and because the other Megatron refused to leave his drone army behind, whoever went first would have to send back enough energy for a second trip. Both Megatrons insisted they should go first, and neither would back down.”

“Oh _frag_ that,” Starscream said with a snarl, suddenly understanding why things had gone south.

Thundercracker nodded. “Shockwave offered to go himself, alone. He assured everyone that once he was out, he would modify the device and then transport everyone where they needed to go from the outside, but Megatron didn’t trust him.”

“Which one?”

Skywarp snorted. “Both.”

“That’s why they turned on each other,” and Thundercracker's optics narrowed. “Each was certain they would be abandoned once the other was freed. So they attacked each other, and the other Megatron won. He chased us off and took the prototype, saying he was going to strand us here for our treachery.”

Starscream snorted derisively.

“But we rallied and busted aft after him,” Skywarp said with flaring wings. “We reached him before he could activate it. It was a huge fight! We ended up having to retreat, but we still managed to trash the primary energy coil so Megs couldn’t leave. Cyclonus and Demolisher got busted up, but we deactivated Shockwave.”

Skywarp sounded proud, and for good reason. Standing up to and thwarting Megatron was no small victory, but now escape hinged on defeating Megatron to get their hands on the rest of the teleporter.

 _Surely a piece of cake, because defeating Megatron just is so damned easy, isn’t it?! So now I have to defeat Megatron twice over; the one here **and** the one back at home_ , and the thought made Starscream groan. He didn’t blame his trine for their actions, not one bit. He understood the appeal of a pyrrhic victory, but none of this was helping him escape.

“Can the teleporter be reassembled if we get it back?” Starscream demanded, drumming his fingers against his thigh for his growing anxiety. He was growing impatient as getting out of this mess was his top priority. The shimmering sky above suddenly seemed less beautiful, and more ominous. If he failed, he and his sparklets would starve here.

Thundercracker scanned the horizon for enemies for a moment before answering. “We think so, but the problem is creating a new energy coil from scratch. It’s impossible without Shockwave.”

“Just leave that to me,” Starscream said, smiling to himself. The schematics for Shockwave’s original construct included a universal energy coil, and he was certain he could cobble together whatever was needed to escape.

At least that was something.

Starscream said as much, and Skywarp flashed him a cheery grin as Thundercracker stopped in front of a hatchway labeled ‘waste disposal chute’. Starscream recognized Skywarp’s lazy scrawl and smirked. It was hardly original, but as good a way as any to discourage Megatron’s drones from investigating and Starscream shot Skywarp an approving wing-flick.

Inside his cockpit, Starscream felt the sparklet pile shift. Glancing down, he saw Optimus open his optics and blink sleepily. After a moment, the sparklet shifted a little and then nestled back into a comfortable snooze. Their biolights were dimmer, and they would need to be fed soon, though Starscream put that thought out of mind.

Meanwhile, Thundercracker popped the hatch and the three seekers ducked inside. After checking a corner for surprises and finding none, they stepped out and strode down the corridor.

The inside of the war world was dark and the three of them switched to night vision so they could see. All was still and quiet, and the sounds of their pedes echoed down the hallway, even for how softly they stepped.

Fortunately the war world was a very big ship, and no one was within audial-shot. “This way,” Thundercracker said, taking point while Skywarp brought up the rear, and the two of them guided Starscream deeper into the massive, defunct vessel.

*******

_Optimus is disappointed with me._

Megatron could feel the weight of disapproval in the air around him, weighing him down. It was either that or his conscience, but blaming Optimus was easier. Especially when the weight on his shoulders grew heavier as he struggled to think of some way to save his stranded men.

He was leaning against the wall as he brooded; opposite from a spent torpedo casing that was positioned in the center of the room he'd claimed as his quarters. His arms were crossed over his front and his massive helm-tines cast long shadows in the dim light of his bio-shine. Some mechs might deem them horns, but really they were antlers.

He’d been sequestered away in this dark room for hours now, with nothing to show for it. His soldiers were waiting for him to come up with a workable plan. They were waiting for him to give them the orders that would save their lives, but his options were dreadfully limited thanks to the fact that his counterpart had the lion’s share of resources ... and Optimus was being no help at all.

Megatron’s heavy engine rumbled. “You know you could help instead of judge.”

There was no reply, and with a pained sigh, Megatron decided to face the elephant in the room. He stepped forward and peeled back the torpedo hatch. The faint light from his biolighting reflected off the form within, revealing his old enemy. The blue and red frame that had once been so full of life was now slate gray, and slowly crumbling to dust.  

Optimus Prime was stone cold dead … and very disappointed in his old rival, of that Megatron was certain. Specifically disappointed in the way Megatron was failing his men.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Megatron protested. “I had no choice! I couldn’t trust my counterpart to keep his word and of course he wouldn’t trust mine. I simply had no other option.”

The cold shoulder was unrelenting, and Megatron continued to defend himself. His elegant voice echoed off the stark walls as he listed out his justifications for the ruinous mess he and his counterpart had made of their only chance to escape. He didn’t bother to check his voice. This battered room was a hollowed place, and no one dared bother him here.

Optimus Prime’s expression of disapproval was all in Megatron’s imagination, but still. He knew his enemy better than most. If Optimus lingered here in any way, surely he would be disappointed.

The silence was wearing on Megatron, and his shoulders slumped. “Yes, I have made mistakes,” he finally admitted, breaking down enough to speak the truth. “And no, our attempts to escape have not been going well. Without someone of scientific bent on my side and lacking resources and an army…”

Megatron sighed and closed his optics. There was a strange feeling in his chest, a throbbing that had taken residence in his spark from the moment Optimus had left him, peaking when Megatron discovered he couldn’t yet follow.

“I … miss you.”

His engine sputtered as he stumbled over those words, though it was less a hesitance to speak them and more that he wasn’t in the best of health. By all rights he and Optimus should have both died together. They had been felled in glorious combat, choosing to sacrifice their lives to defeat Unicron. But instead of being destroyed outright, Unicron’s death spasm had sent them spiraling through space and time, only to be snatched from the void by a massive ship with strange energy quills, ending with them stranded together in this pocket universe.

They’d both been grievously wounded from battle. They’d tumbled to the surface of the war world, lying together in a pile of heaving, bleeding machinery. Megatron had sat up, but Optimus hadn’t.

A few short words, a farewell far too brief, and Optimus Prime had passed on.

Megatron had fully intended to join him.

“Let us be enemies in the next life,” Megatron had whispered into a graying audial, while joining Optimus in the torpedo casing he’d modified as their shared sarcophagus. Their internal fluids had mingled, and finding himself sentimental in his last hours, Megatron had even dared to take Optimus’ hand …their fingers interlaced in the darkness.

And it was there, in that dark grave, that his well meaning but moronic minions found him.

Apparently Cyclonus and Demolisher had lowered themselves into the morass of Unicron’s fading spark, all in the hopes of being flung to the same place Megatron been lost to. And it worked, much to Megatron’s chagrin. They’d found him and managed to patch his wounds enough to stabilize him. He’d awoke moments later to see their happy faces leaning over him; coming to rescue him from a fate he’d already embraced.

Megatron had wasted no time setting them straight.

 _‘Don’t you fools understand?_ _My story is done! I have brokered peace between Decepticons and Autobots! I have defeated a GOD with my bare servos and lost my only worthy opponent in the process! Let the peace treaty stand! For without Optimus Prime life is meaningless! There is nothing for me to return to; I am finished. Now return to your lives and let me die in peace!’_

_With that, Megatron ripped his bandages right off his frame while Cyclonus and Demolisher shrank back in confusion, sharing identical kicked puppy looks._

_‘Oh, uh, sorry about that sir,’ Cyclonus said. Shoulders slumping and faces long, Cyclonus and Demolisher had plodded away … only to come back a few moments later.  ‘Err… sorry again sir, but how do we get out of here?’_

…and thus Megatron of Universe Armada had been forced out of his grave to save the afts of his idiotic, but very loyal soldiers. It ended up being much harder then he imagined, especially when they explained they’d only packed _climbing gear_ for the return trip.

Megatron had been further put out when Thundercracker and Skywarp arrived a short time later, ensnared by a spiteful ember of Unicron’s spark while trying to track down the missing Cyclonus and Demolisher.

Megatron from Universe Prime had arrived a few days later, a result of a teleportation accident. He’d been accompanied by a bad attitude, which was backed up by Shockwave and a contingent of drones. All of them reported interference from that same strange ship with the red energy quills.

Things had gone downhill from there. Megatron had navigated one disaster after another, right up until the present day. _Now if only I hadn’t bungled everything to the Pit and back…_ and the thought made Megatron sigh. Now, deep within his ragtag base, he was trying to figure out how to save his minions. Of his own fate, he was no longer sure.

“Lord Megatron?”

Megatron startled for the disturbance, looking down at his wrist communicator. He frowned when the tinny voice tried again and then tapped at his comms. “Yes Thundercracker?”

“We’ve found a straggler.”

Megatron perked up and scowled all at the same time. “Tell me it’s someone useful. I cannot suffer any more fools.”

“It’s Starscream, sir.”

Megatron’s optics widened. “You don’t say.”

"And he has two seekerlets and a sparkling with him. They appear to be younger versions of myself and Skywarp and ... someone else. Apparently due to an energy mishap."

Megatron's left optic brow twitched. "Protoforms. Here. In this wretched hellhole." His lips curled as the weight of his responsibility settled even more heavily across his back. He stared at the empty space next to Optimus. Then he reared back and promptly smashed his helm against the wall.

**WHAM!**

Thankfully Megatron's helm was thick and easily withstood the hit, but the poor wall was another matter entirely.

**WHAM!**

Megatron reared back, and smashed himself again.

**WHAM!**

"Lord Megatron? Are you alright?"

"Oh, just right as rain! Anything _else_ to report you've found? Perhaps a geriatric patient with special medicinal needs requiring immediate evacuation? An operating team mid-surgery on a dying carrier in need of massive quantities of energon? A busload of sickly cyber-puppies requiring round-the-clock care?"

**WHAM!**

"Are you _sure_ you're alright?"

"I am FINE Thundercracker! Why, I couldn't be more 'alright' if I tried! It's not like this is a _completely and utterly hopeless situation_ and now we are adding soon-to-be _starving_ _sparklings_ to the mix! That would be simply _wretched_ and the universe just isn't that cruel, now is it?!"

"I ... uh ..."

"Now, and for the last time, is there anything _else_ I should know about before I continue to take out my frustrations on this wall?"

Thundercracker took a deep breath. “Just some better news. Starscream says he has a schematic that can help us create another energy coil. He says he knows how to put one together.”

Megatron calmed down almost instantly. “Well, now that _is_ something,” and he stepped away from the now sorely dented wall. "Starscream would have the skills for such a task," he murmured, though he was speaking more to himself then to Thundercracker. “He was an accomplished scientist.”

“Sir?”

“Good work, Thundercracker. Now bring him to me at once,” Megatron ordered, suddenly sounding more himself now that an opportunity was in sight. As soon as Thundercracker acknowledged him, Megatron killed the line.

"Well, this is a hopeful development," Megatron said as he settled near the sarcophagus again. He was looking off into the distance, but was speaking to Optimus. "It would be nice to be on top again, for once. This might be the edge I need to wrestle victory from my counterpart."

Sparklings, though.

This was neither the time nor the place, and now the weight on his shoulders was that much heavier.

_Primus._

Megatron rubbed at the bridge of his nasal sensor. “It will take a miracle to save all of these fools from themselves,” he muttered. He glanced down at his old enemy as if expecting some useful advice, or at least a stern talking-to for moping so pathetically.

But from Optimus Prime there was only silence.

 

***

 

The war world’s arrival to the pocket dimension must have been cataclysmic, as every wall and floor panel sported a spider’s web of cracks and fractures. Entire floors had collapsed, becoming sandwiched together. The entire vessel was shattered through and through, and would never fly again.

The seekers were forced to remain in robot mode as the abandoned passages were twisted almost beyond recognition. At times they had to wriggle through sections, coating them with dirt. The dust and rust was coating Starscream’s everything now. Even his gears were starting to creak. Irritated, he kicked at some of the clutter with a scowl and the clatter echoed far down the narrow corridor. 

“How much farther?” Starscream demanded.

Skywarp and Thundercracker flinched for the noise, and once again Starscream checked himself. He’d already been warned that rival Megatron’s crew was particularly nasty. He didn’t believe it – what self-respecting Decepticon feared drones?!  – but Skywarp and Thundercracker were insistent, and so they tried to move as quietly as possible.

“Not far,” Skywarp finally answered. All of Starscream’s grumbling was making him grin, and Starscream haughtily ignored his trine mate’s knowing smirk and especially the strange wistfulness behind his expression.

Honestly, Starscream couldn’t find it in himself to care what they thought of him. He informed them of that, and advised them as soon as they arrived at the base he wanted a bath first thing. He knew his fastidiousness was showing, but _whatever_.

Thundercracker glanced over his shoulder and smiled at all the grumbling. His optics glazed over and his smile took on a hint of sadness, lingering well beyond propriety. Starscream was getting this from both of them now that they were relaxing around him.

It was all rather mushy and hinted at sadder things, and so Starscream decided not to ask.

“We’ve been here for a while now, and sometimes more stuff just … shows up. Think of this place as the multi-phasic garbage dump of the universe,” Skywarp offered, though Starscream was absolutely certain Skywarp didn’t know what ‘multi-phasic’ even meant.

“That’s not right,” Starscream corrected, remembering one of Shockwave’s theories. “I think this whole mess is tied to an Autobot ship we encountered called the _Lost Light_.”

“In what way?” Thundercracker asked. He sounded intrigued though he kept a wary optic out for surprises. Their wariness was starting to rub off on Starscream, and so he kept his voice down as he shared his piece of the puzzle.

“The _Lost Light_ scientists, Brainstorm and Perceptor, meddled with trans-parallel-dimension portal technology, causing an invasion of both our realities by … well it’s not important. The point is that Shockwave thinks their experiment had a lasting effect on their quantum engines. After we parted ways, Shockwave remembered encountering odd errors with his own quantum construct, suggesting their engine and his creation might have become linked…”

The odd part was that Shockwave’s troubled experiments with his original quantum construct had been well before the demonic invasion. And then Starscream paused, remembering something he’d learned in his studies _._

_Sub-dimensional pockets, once created, always exist and can never be closed, extending outwards in time, back and forward, past and future. There is a good chance that the reason the Lost Light had engine trouble in the first place was because of the pocket being created, which then extended itself back in time, simultaneously messing up their engines while giving the demonic realm an opening to invade._

And there it was; the instant helm ache that reminded Starscream why he hated that field of study. Then his lips quirked when he realized Skywarp and Thundercracker were waiting for him to finish.

“—and that was part of the reason our Shockwave abandoned his project,” Starscream finished, and Skywarp and Thundercracker nodded agreeably.

 _It was also one of the reasons Shockwave tried to convince Megatron to stop the modifications_ , Starscream thought, though he didn’t bother mentioning that little detail. The less he thought about the whole mess, the less his helm ached.

Skywarp blinked. “Wait, so if your Shockwave abandoned his project, then why are you stuck here?”

“Because some fool put it into Megatron’s head that Shockwave’s twitchy little project could be converted into a weapon. The Constructicons started tinkering and then his mad little experiment turned on us. Now thanks to his idiocy, I am trapped here,” Starscream said with a snarl, adding, “and here I thought I hated him _before_.”

Skywarp nodded. “That other Megs is a real afthole too. He’s always snarling at us with his nasty sharkticon teeth and attacking us with stabby bits everywhere. You are going to hate him. Especially when you see how he treats everyone.”

“What do you mean the _other_ Megatron?” Starscream sneered, his wings flicking with contempt. “They are _all_ aftholes!”

“Actually,” and suddenly Thundercracker sounded uncomfortable, “Our Megatron isn’t like that—”

“And just so we are clear,” Starscream interrupted, “I am going to see us three back to our universes if it’s the last thing I do, but _not_ Megatron. He’s a monster and deserves to starve to death. I fully intend to see the both of them left here to rust. Oh, and for the record, I hope they eat each other.”

Thundercracker tried again, “If you would just listen to me for—”

“At the same time,” Starscream hissed.

Skywarp’s wings drooped. “It’s just that—”

“So it hurts them _both_.”

“Starscream—”

“Don’t,” Starscream snapped, slashing the air with a harsh servo. “Don’t you _dare_ defend him. I can’t stand any more of Megatron’s stupidity. I am _done_.”

They fell silent for a time and turned their attention to navigating the ruined corridors. The journey was slow going for the sleek war jets, and movement inside his cockpit warned Starscream that one of his sparklets had woken up. A moment later and ‘Warp was back to entertaining himself. He teleported onto Starscream’s helm and waved at his adult self. His little wing-nubs flapped in excitement.

Skywarp grinned and waved back. “Can I hold—”

_“No.”_

“Unicron,” Thundercracker said out of the blue, shooting a glance at Skywarp, which Starscream interpreted as a plea for backup.

_Wha?_

At Starscream’s blank look, Skywarp offered, “You know, the giant evil god-planet? Tried to kill us all and eat Cybertron?”

Starscream shook his helm.

“In our universe, Lord Megatron and Optimus Prime joined forces and sacrificed themselves to destroy the God of Chaos,” Thundercracker explained, “and saved Cybertron. They died as heroes, or at least we all thought they died.”

_Oh._

“Megatron is no hero,” and Starscream punctuated that with a disparaging snort. It annoyed him that they were trying to defend Megatron again. It just wasn’t fair. How the hell did anyone that stupid manage to gain so much loyalty from so many, while Starscream couldn’t convince a single combiner team to back him up?

Thundercracker lifted and dropped his wings with a _click_. “Our Megatron is.”

“So, what happened?” Starscream asked, deciding to save that argument for later. He was too distracted to besmirch Megatron properly like he deserved. He kept reaching up to grab ‘Warp off his helm, but the little sneak kept bouncing away.

“We never recovered their bodies. Everyone was too busy trying to scratch out some sort of living from the mess Unicron had left behind. Then a few deca-cycles later, Skywarp and I were assigned by Soundwave — our interim leader — to investigate the disappearance of Demolisher and Cyclonus in the ruins of Unicron’s husk. It turns out that gods take a while to fully die and we were pulled into the anomaly.”

“Wait,” Starscream said. “So where was I in all this? I mean, your version of me? I assume I am now the leader of the Decepticons if Megatron threw his life away so … _heroically_.” He said the last word as if it were particularly dirty.

“You died a hero before that,” Thundercracker said and his sad look was back. “You gave your life to force Unicron to show his hand, to convince Megatron to unite our forces with the Autobots so we would have a fighting chance to defeat Unicron.”

 _Humph_.

So that explained all the soft, lingering looks. Starscream snorted. “Self-sacrifice for the greater good. What a dreadful way to go.”

Deciding he wasn’t going to argue that, Thundercracker instead paused to check a set of new scuff marks on the ground. It was a clear sign that the rival Megatron’s crew was prowling around, which gave Skywarp a chance to chime in.

“Turns out that Demolisher and Cyclonus had abandoned their assigned duties, and went to search for Megatron’s body instead. Megatron had survived, though Prime died for sure. They found Megatron in the same place he’d placed Prime’s body” — and here Skywarp hesitated when Thundercracker shot him a warning look — “and the other Megatron showed up not long after,” he finished awkwardly.

Starscream missed the exchange as he was busy stuffing little ‘Warp back into his cockpit, only for the seekerlet to teleport back onto his helm a moment later. Starscream grumbled, but then relaxed when ‘Warp started peeping happily.

Such a cute noise.

 _At least he’s not wailing,_ Starscream thought, consoling himself. Above all else, he had to get these two little idiots back his universe and into the medbay as soon as possible. All this friendly chatter was making him ache to have his own trine back to normal.

“We think all this is tied together and figures it’s a stupid Autobot ship fragging everything up,” Skywarp grumbled.

Thundercracker watched Starscream carefully. “We used parts of this ship to construct a teleportation device, which the other Megatron damaged. He controls the area the teleportation device is located, and we can’t break through his barricades. We will need your help to get out of here — _all of us_.”

Starscream’s optics narrowed at that, but then he relaxed. “Don’t worry,” he said, tapping his cockpit. “We are getting out of here. _All of us_.”

This time when Starscream grabbed ‘Warp, he didn’t teleport away. Starscream set him back in his cockpit and winced when ‘Warp accidentally woke Thunders and Oppy after forcibly snuggling his way into the snooze-pile again. Starscream's wince became a frown when there were no squeaks of protest.

 _Doesn’t sound like I am going to make it back in time,_ Starscream thought. He rubbed at his throat ruefully as he added, “I have to get these sparklets back home to get them back to normal. I am not raising them. No. Fragging. Way.”

They walked through the passage together in silence for a few miles, and then Thundercracker pulled up short, throwing out his hand. Skywarp made the distant forms out first and clamped his hands on each of his brother’s shoulders. With a _wharp_ , the three rematerialized behind cover.

“Drones,” Thundercracker said, dropping to a crouch. He pulled out a dimly-glowing scanning device and started tapping at it.

Starscream squinted over Skywarp’s shoulders, and sure enough, it was the same purple and black frame-types he’d seen earlier. There were six of them, and other then their superior numbers they didn’t look all that alarming. “Are we seriously hiding from _drones_?”

“These aren’t normal drones,” Thundercracker said. “They belong to the other Megatron, and they are as good as any Decepticon soldier.”

“That’s not possible,” Starscream said, but the intense expressions on his brother’s faces made him reconsider charging out there to prove a point. It wasn’t necessary anyway, as the scout party moved on without coming their way.

Thundercracker straightened up. “Let’s go.”

But Starscream waved for patience. “Hold on. I can’t put this off any longer.”

The sparklets were awake now and everyone was looking peaked. Even more telling, they’d stopped squirreling around and their little bio-lights were blinking insistently. They needed nourishment.

 _Maybe I can pawn them off on these two,_ Starscream thought. His wings lifted hopefully, but his trine had already realized the situation before he could say anything and started edging away. They weren’t touching that with a ten-foot-pole. Feeding themselves was too weird, and besides, Starscream was their designated babysitter, not them.

It really _was_ his problem.

Starscream turned and huddled into the sheltering overhang of a half-felled wall. He opened his cockpit and reached inside. Thunders was the nearest, and he lifted the blue sparklet out first.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” and Starscream uncovered his throat nodule.

Thunders perked up with a soft cheep, but before Starscream could set Thunders against his throat, ‘Warp teleported there and nuzzled in instead. His fueling plate slid back and engaged with the nodule before Starscream could even think. And then they were throat-to-throat, with ‘Warp squeaking happily, snuggling as close as possible.

Energon flowed and whatever myths and significance Cybertronian society had tacked on to the act, it really was no big deal, and Starscream soon relaxed.

It was at this point that Optimus made his mad dash to escape. Hopping out of Starscream’s still-open cockpit, Oppy landed on his round little bottom with a “beep!” and started rolling away as fast as he could.

Oppy left a trail of _nope-nope-nope-nope_ in his wake, but he barely made it a wing’s length before he had to slow for lack of energy. With a small smile, Thundercracker stepped over and scooped him up.

“What’s the matter?” Thundercracker asked. His hands were gentle and supportive as he tucked the little frame close for warmth, while Oppy honked at him incredulously.

“I know, but you still have to fuel,” Thundercracker pointed out. “And I don’t think anyone is very happy right now.”

Optimus’ oversized optics narrowed. He straightened himself to his highest height — which wasn’t very high _at all_ — and he pointed at Starscream with an accusing “Beep!” and waved his little arm-nubs all around.

Thundercracker blinked in surprise. “He was going to _throw you away_?”

“Beep!”

“Tied you down?”

“Beep!”

“Now that’s just rude.”

“Beep!”

“Yeah, he’s not the easiest to get along with sometimes. There’s a wall there … made up of his own waste tank lining, because his helm’s so far up his own aft.”

“Beep.”

Thundercracker nodded in agreement with Oppy’s astute commentary on the state of things. Then he turned and frowned over at the now sulking Starscream. “You were going to just abandon him? Seriously?!”

“Oh shut up, you don’t know me,” Starscream said. He did manage to look a little embarrassed that he’d been called out, though he was too distracted to argue his case. Too busy trying to disengage the greedy little ‘Warp from his nodule while the hungry little Thunders waited patiently for his turn.

“Mean 'Cons suck,” Skywarp announced grandly and then grinned when ‘Warp teleported over to him. ‘Warp materialized on his shoulder with a happy squeak, his biolighting glowing merrily. He started bouncing and cheeping at his older self.

Across the way, Starscream settled Thunders at his neck.

Thundercracker watched as Starscream started fueling the patient blue sparklet. It was all so surreal. Then Thundercracker glanced down and noted that Oppy was sharing his expression. He shook his helm. “Come on. Let’s go for a little walk together for some air,” and the normally stern Thundercracker couldn’t help but smile when Oppy peeped at him agreeably.

That bit of respect and kindness had soothed Oppy's ruffled little plates. Comforted, the little sparklet perked up and fluffed himself up and then settled back down until his frame was sleek and round. It strongly reminded Thundercracker of a little bird... and then he noticed Oppy’s dim biolighting, reminding him again how bad off Oppy was. He turned the corner back the way they’d come, not intending to go very far at all. As soon as he was out of sight of the other two, he quickly came to a decision.

“Fueling didn’t look very hard. How about we give it a try?” Thundercracker suggested, tapping at his throat. “I promise I’ll hold still and not bump you.” It was a silly promise, but that wasn’t the point. The kindly manner of the offer was, and at this point Oppy was too hungry to refuse.

“Peep,” Oppy agreed. The thought of fuel had him perking up again, even if the situation was rather embarrassing. Thundercracker being so open and understanding really helped him stay calm about everything.

Thundercracker sat down on an overturned crate and settled himself. He opened his own throat nodule and settled Oppy against his neck. He felt the little frame make contact and felt a warm rush from his neck outward. It was really rather soothing and Oppy could only agree. Resting neck-to-neck, Thundercracker felt the tiny body relax, and he relaxed after.

Back down the hall, Skywarp was grinning at his younger self. “So, can you talk yet?”

“Squeak!” ‘Warp replied, spreading his little wing-nubs excitedly. It didn’t count as talking, though the little body was so expressive it was hard to miss his meaning.

“Heh. I bet you could if you tried,” and Skywarp began cajoling his smaller self. “Can you say moose? Go on, give it a try. I won’t laugh — at least not very much — and that’s a promise.”

“Beeesp!”

“Hey, pretty good!” and then Skywarp inclined his helm closer, all conspiratorially-like. “Megatron _hates_ being called a moose. You'll see what I mean when you meet him. He hates it with the passion of a thousand fiery stars! But he would never hurt a sparkling.”

‘Warp perked up at that, suddenly getting Skywarp’s game. His optics narrowed craftily. This could be very amusing!

“Beeespee!”

“Not bad! Not bad!” Skywarp encouraged. “Keep trying! Mooooose.  You have to move your mouth like this when your vocalizer isn’t engaged. Push air past your lips, almost like whistling.”

Even while coaching his younger self, Skywarp reminded himself to stay sharp. He was supposed to be keeping an optic out for enemies, though perhaps he could be forgiven for being so distracted. Especially when ‘Warp squeaked and shook his little helm in defeat and then unabashedly stuck his nearest arm-nub into his mouth.

“You are killing me with the cute,” Skywarp said, and ‘Warp smirked – actually smirked – back at him. Thundercracker returned a moment later with a much happier Oppy riding shotgun on his shoulder. Skywarp nodded at Thundercracker and then watched as Starscream disengaged and put Thunders back into his cockpit. He looked relieved that was over. 

Skywarp’s wings rose in amusement for his discomfort. “Batcher Starscream,” he said with a smirk. “Has a terrible ring to it.”

“Shut up and hand the little menace over,” Starscream snapped, pointing unnecessarily at ‘Warp, who was back to trying to say ‘moose’ with questionable results. "I want them all with me."

 _Wharp_!

Then ‘Warp was back on Starscream’s helm, fuel tank full and back to his mischievous self.

“We need to get back. I commed Megatron a while back and he is expecting us,” Thundercracker said as he handed a brightly glowing Oppy back to Starscream, who seemed relieved that the problem had been taken care of.

“Megatron wants to see me, oh be still my spark,” Starscream snapped. He continued to besmirch Megatron’s name as he placed ‘Warp and Thunders back to his cockpit amid protesting squeaks. Then he added Oppy too, only this time without the seatbelt.

Starscream had just closed his cockpit when ‘Warp teleported back onto Skywarp’s shoulder, this time with Thunders, leaving only Oppy peeking out from Starscream’s cockpit. Oppy squeaked in protest. He was looking a little peeved to be left behind.

“Oh for the love of Megatron’s rusting aft-crack—”

Thundercracker hesitated at the sour way Starscream besmirched Megatron’s name, the bitterness well beyond normal. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but we have been trapped here for a while now. Megatron’s been here even longer, so don’t be surprised if he’s a little…”

Thundercracker trailed off.

Starscream didn’t like the sound of that. Hadn’t these two twits just spent the last hour convincing him that their Megatron was different? His plating clamped tighter to his frame. “A little _what_?”

“Well, you’ll see,” Thundercracker sighed.

“Don’t upset the mooooooose,” Skywarp said and his optics went perfectly round like dinner plates. At the same time and without changing expression, he started tickling ‘Warp and Thunders, breaking the worrisome moment with happy sparkling squeaks.

Standing beside Skywarp, Thundercracker focused on the ground and let out another long-suffering sigh.

 _They are all going stir-crazy,_ Starscream thought. He held out his servo to Skywarp, silently demanding his precious trine mates back. Skywarp didn’t want to part with his new playmates and hesitated. But the resulting look on Starscream’s face wasn’t pretty, and so Skywarp wisely handed them back, though only with great reluctance.

Thundercracker moved a heavy piece of scrap, placing it to the side. Hidden behind was a hidden passage with a doorway, only just visible in the distance. “Put them away, Starscream.”

“We’re almost there.”

 


	5. A Moose and His Minions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Starscream meets Megatron for the first time ... again.

Starscream wasn’t sure what to expect when he followed Thundercracker into the Decepticon’s makeshift base.

Everyone was gathered in the central area to greet him, and Starscream was disappointed when the surroundings proved to be little more than a series of connected rooms. Everything was dark and tomb-like inside. It made him nervous, though he didn’t let it show, taking care to keep his wings still as stone.

The brightest lights were the various biolighting of the occupants, and the mech that could only be Megatron gleamed above all others. His frame was attractive enough, boxy with a regal shade of purple and sporting green highlights. He was standing centermost with his hands on his hips, and his helm was tilted back in the manner of a minorly inconvenienced noble.

Even Megatron's damaged frame did little to hinder his regal air; all sharp angles and proud tines.

_Don’t anger the moose._

The playful warning flashed through Starscream’s mind the instant he saw Megatron of universe Armada … and his impressive head ornamentation. The look of Antlered Leader was so dramatically different from Glorious Leader as to give Starscream pause. It was a rare thing, and a moment passed in silence as the two mechs sized each other up.

Starscream must have looked much the same. The harsh lines in Megatron's expression eased as he took Starscream’s measure, finding it most familiar. He seemed instantly pleased with the new addition to his team and was the first to recover.

“Starscream,” murmured Megatron. He seemed fascinated, possibly even enchanted, by the mech standing before him. He even smiled openly. "You look much the same." 

Starscream was less pleased. “Another Megatron in my life, just what I need.” His tones were as scornful as could be managed. It was sufficiently contemptuous, almost hateful, but his body-language remained respectful. He was keeping a non-confrontational distance from Megatron, which sent conflicting messages.

Megatron eyed him, intrigued. But he chose to disregard the cold greeting, misinterpreting Starscream's reaction as being unnecessarily intimidated. He still remembered the dreadful instant that Unicron vaporized his Starscream in a show of power. That loss had been a brutal stab to his spark and the start of his downward spiral. Seeing Starscream hale and whole and snarky brightened his mood considerably.

"Put it in neutral, Starscream," Megatron said as he lifted his fist in a robust greeting. "You are among your faction here. I, for one, am pleased to see you. We could use your help, soldier.”

“Yeah! Nice to see you again, Starscream!” Demolisher called from a corner and Cyclonus called similar greetings. They were both were covered with bandages and crude weld lines. Glancing over at them, Starscream was reminded of Skywarp’s comments about them getting trashed in the fight, and he was satisfied to note their injuries were mostly to the front of their frames.

 _No cowards here,_ Starscream thought, and though he had a sense that Cyclonus and Demolisher weren't the sharpest weapons in the Decepticon arsenal, their smiles were genuine enough. It helped to know they could be counted on in a scrap, and he found himself relaxing. They continued their friendly chattering as Skywarp and Thundercracker wandered over that direction.

...which left Starscream to contend with Antlered Leader on his own.

Starscream frowned and his wings flicked as he realized Megatron was still studying him, perhaps contrasting him with the Starscream he had lost. He could only assume their history would have been similar to his own. As such, he thought Megatron would be displeased, or at least wary, but that expectation didn't align with the keen interest Megatron seemed to have in him.

“Come with me,” Megatron ordered as he turned to walk out the large double doors, leading to the rooms beyond. “I won’t bother with a tour. There isn’t much to see beyond this room and the one we are using for a work bay.”

Starscream followed after with a muttered “how charmingly rustic,” though after eyeing the massive cannon jutting from this Megatron’s hip, he left out the part about it being as rusty as a certain someone’s bearings. Inside his cockpit, the seekerlings and lone sparklet were starting to quarrel amongst themselves again. They were all trying to peer out of Starscream’s cockpit at the same time, though for different reasons; the two seekerlings for curiosity and the sparklet for concern.

“Indeed,” Megatron said darkly. “The accommodations are most questionable. I regret that the resources we have salvaged here are all we have to offer. My only consolation is that my wretched counterpart is as out of options … as I _used_ to be.” He shot Starscream a meaningful look and continued, “I need you to create a list of what you need – within reason – to build an energy coil.”

“The energy coil is the easy part. I could slap one together in a few hours, but it’s not all that we need,” Starscream said. He was following behind Megatron, and took the opportunity to wiggle his middle in warning as the three youngsters were starting to get rambunctious again. “An energy coil is useless without the rest of the teleporter.”

Megatron gestured at a crude workbench and took a step back. “Leave that to me. I will do what I can to provide you what you need.”

“I think I won’t, actually.” Starscream announced. “If you are reasonable, then it stands to reason that the other Megatron will be as well, seeing as I can offer him the same service. It makes more sense for me to make contact with him, scout his base from the inside, and then report back.”

Megatron’s expression darkened. “And how will I know that your promised betrayal of _him_ is not, in actuality, a betrayal of _me_?”

Vorns ago, such a pointed question from Megatron would have sent Starscream backpedaling hard. Not anymore, and Starscream’s wings flared aggressively. “Because Skywarp and Thundercracker are loyal to you, and they assured me you aren’t the _slag-sucker_ this other Megatron is.”

The silence went long as moose and birb sized each other up once again, the both of them re-evaluating the situation. Then Skywarp and Thundercracker stepped into the science bay, both holding containers of various tools and supplies. “This should help,” Thundercracker said, though he looked concerned for the tension in the room.

Oblivious to the harsh undertones, Skywarp teleported to the table and dumped his armful onto the workbench. “Hey Starscream,” he said as he stepped close, “The others don’t believe me when I told them I was the most awesome of the three, so can I hold–”

“No.”

Starscream ignored Skywarp’s instant whining as he wasn’t about to let his little trine mates out of his sight. Even as familiar as everyone was to him, Starscream still didn’t trust anyone here, not really.

It was then that Megatron noticed all the movement in Starscream’s cockpit. He’d already been advised of the situation with the sparklets and held only the mildest of interest in them. He wasn't the sentimental sort, nor was he particularly paternal. But they were being noisy, and now that he could hear the little ones, he was curious to see them up close.

"I can have Demolisher put together a crate to hold them while you work," Megatron offered, though Starscream just scoffed at the idea of the three of them staying in one easily managed place. His cockpit was a secured space and even he was having trouble with them!

"Don't worry about them," Starscream said, grumbling as he considered opening up his cockpit to referee again. They certainly needed it. 'Warp was using his superior weight to his advantage again, and he and Thunders were wrestling around on the cockpit floor, squeaking up a storm. This left the cockpit chair open for claiming, and it wasn't long before Oppy was struggling to climb into the seat.

With a triumphant cheep, Optimus managed to hop onto the cockpit dash, and pressed his little face against the glass. He was extremely curious as to what was happening outside, though his ability to understand what was being said was beginning to fade a little.

Megatron's optics whirred as he focused on the tiny frames inside. The blue seekerlet had to be Thundercracker, which meant the purple one was Skywarp, but who was the third little frame? The one staring at him with the big blue optics and oversized audials and a round bottom with blue and red coloration…?

It all clicked a second later and Megatron’s optics flew open wide. “Starscream!  Is that … Optimus Prime?!” and then he reared back in sheer amazement. “It _is_ him! I would recognize those audials anywhere! What an amusing turn of events!”

Starscream sniffed at that and then glanced down for an even louder squeak-scuffle inside his cockpit. Oppy had finally clued in on the identity of Antlered Leader, and had thrown himself off the cockpit chair. He'd parted the two rowdy seekerlets like Moses parting the Red Sea and now only his bottom was visible as he tried to burrow past the floor paneling.

Completely oblivious to divergent history, Megatron had no idea why Optimus Prime would be so unhappy to see him, beyond the obvious that they had been enemies for eons. They'd always had a strong, mutual warrior's respect for each other, and he could only assume that Optimus was concerned for his dignity and as such, Megatron found his panic intensely amusing. The sheer joy of seeing his old enemy again – even or perhaps _especially_ in such a silly state – felt like a soothing salve on his aching spark.

Megatron wasn't normally soft on sparklings, but was prepared to make an exception right there. After securing all weapons systems into standby - just in case - he popped open his own tank cockpit and poked at himself, making sure there was enough room to comfortably house a single sparkling. There was, and satisfied with his ability to take care of Optimus, he turned towards Starscream with an expectant look.

Starscream just glared back at him.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Megatron demanded with a sharp grin. “Hand him over at once!”

Starscream’s chin jutted out and a bull-headed expression completed the look. “I don't think so. You don’t really want to hold him, anyway. He’d probably leak on you for spite. I certainly would.”

Megatron laughed then, an honest-to-primus expression of amusement. “Don’t be ridiculous. I have suffered far worse than a few drops of waste fluid, and besides, your cockpit is overcrowded as it is. You look burdened and I insist on easing your load. I would be _delighted_ to be of help.”

"They are too young to intake fuel on their own. It would make more sense that they stay with Starscream," Thundercracker offered. He assumed Megatron might share their discomfort and was doing what he could to help Starscream dissuade Megatron, but it only seemed to make matters worse.

Megatron's lips quirked at the thought and he made an odd sound, very much like a stifled chortle. Then he opened his throat plating with a _snick_ , but then realized he couldn't feel anything there, beyond an emergency medical port. "Hmm, now that you mention it-" and with a concerned rumble, Megatron pointed at the spot and turned towards Thundercracker, “-can you tell if I even have a nodule anymore? I have never checked. It's never come up before.”

“No sir,” and Thundercracker managed to pull off a neutral expression though he couldn’t quite hide his twitch for Optimus’ muffled squeak, coming from deep inside Starscream’s cramped cockpit. Megatron muttered "how disappointing" under his breath and then Thundercracker blinked when little Thunders mimed shooting himself in the helm with his arm-nubs.

“Starscream,” Thundercracker hissed, and his optics said it all.

Starscream's shoulders slumped a little. "Yes, I know," he said while stepping away from Megatron, who was poking at himself in disappointment. Starscream's expression twisted in dismay as he added, “They retain their memories, at least for now. But I can see a marked difference in them, day by day. They are losing themselves.”

Thundercracker realized why Starscream sounded so upset and shook his helm. “I doubt it’s permanent, Starscream. You don’t lose banked memories like that, and anyway, the spark retains links to them. They should remember themselves when they are restored to their normal age, once their neural links realign.”

“You think so?” and Starscream looked relieved when Thundercracker nodded. His intuitions were usually so dead on that Starscream relaxed completely.

It was a short reprieve.

“He is forgetting everything? That is unfortunate. Do you think he still understands me, then?” Megatron asked. He leaned in as he spoke, trying to get a better look at the pocket-sized Optimus Prime. There was a sharp, teasing grin on his face as he wasn’t above a little ribbing of his old enemy, though he was already trying to rein in his amusement ... teasing a little sparkling should be beneath him, after all.

“How could anyone forget someone as ridiculous-looking as you?” Starscream snapped, leaning back in the opposite direction as Megatron and his oversized hip-cannon were far too close for comfort.

“Oh, really now,” and Megatron bit his lip to keep from laughing outright as he watched Oppy’s round little bottom wiggling frantically. It was almost too much, but he managed to retain something of a dignified air as he said, “Optimus, _do_ calm yourself. As if I would harm you while you were trapped in such a state.”

Optimus remained unconvinced of Megatron’s professed good intentions. He didn’t want to be looked at by Megatron, handled by Megatron, and _especially_ not bounced, cuddled, or fed by Megatron. _Dear Primus no._ As such, he was doing everything in his power to dig his way past Starscream’s cockpit floor plating.

…and once again, Starscream entirely understood. “Absolutely not,” he growled at Megatron, and he was acting more and more like an angry, backyard dog the more insistent Megatron became.

“You are actually serious about this,” and Megatron stepped back with an offended frown. “I would have thought after all these eons you would know me better.” Then he tapped Starscream’s cockpit, as if to demand Starscream retract it. His optics never left Optimus, though there was an unusual softness behind them. He really, really wanted to hold the frantic little sparklet.

But Starscream held his ground. He bared his denta and there wasn’t the slightest tremor to his wings. He was too used to being kicked around and worse. Make no mistake, Megatron’s bite was far worse than his bark, but Starscream’s growing anger drowned out his fear of this mech.

“Don’t you _dare_.”

“Why do you defend our greatest enemy?” Megatron demanded. He was already employing his standard manipulative tactics to get what he wanted, but Starscream recognized the move and wasn’t taking the bait.

Starscream turned his back to Megatron and answered, “I have my reasons." His wings flicked in a familiar pattern, the seeker equivalent of an obscene gesture. It was an open insult and his disgust was unmistakable, putting to rest Megatron's original notion that Starscream was merely intimidated and trying to hide it behind needless bravado. He really did dislike Megatron that much, and wasn't even bothering to hide it.

“Such disrespect,” and Megatron's lips curved in a fine arch as a threatening edge entered his voice.

The fingers of Megatron's right hand clenched into a reproving fist, while the other hand curling in confusion as he took a warning step towards that exposed back, but Starscream’s retort was lined with steel. “You don’t deserve respect, and I have proof,” he retorted. Then he tossed something at Megatron’s face with another careless gesture of distaste.

Megatron caught the little data disk, looking startled. “What … is it?”

“Glorious Leader kept Prime as a personal slave for several months and recorded his sordid little escapades. He handed out data disks as rewards to several his most loyal minions, and before you ask, no, I was not among that number. I received this nasty little thing from Dirge, who was too disturbed to keep it.”

Megatron looked intrigued as Starscream finished with a tart, “so go ahead, download that and enjoy yourself at his expense like you’ve already done. But spare us both the exhibition. We are sick to death of you.”

“Exhibition?”

Megatron frowned, liking neither the insulting tones nor the implications. This particular Seeker could be most shameless. It said something when _Starscream_ of all mechs disapproved of someone’s behavior.

After prudently confirming there were no nasty little viruses, Megatron decided to satisfy his curiosity. He jammed the little disk into his arm, uploading the entire contents into his active processing core in a data-sensory rush.

It was a mistake.

Cybertronians were expert consumers of data, capable of taking in and experiencing data and even recordings and memories with frightening speed, though in this case, Megatron instantly regretted consuming the entire contents of that disk in such a manner.

Megatron’s optics flew open wide and then he slapped a palm against the wall. A moment later and he’d emptied the contents of his fuel tank. He wouldn’t have even _recognized_ the silver tyrant in the recordings, except that Starscream had warned him in advance.

“That,” Megatron snarled, “was _vile_. What sort of deranged lunatic bears my name on your world? I would never behave in such a manner.”

The last was said with a note of finality, but Starscream wasn’t interested. He turned his back in dismissal even as Megatron ground his denta and wiped at his mouth, flinching for the taste as much as the wasted fuel. Then he watched as Starscream stomped back to the work bench and began digging through the tools.

Now Megatron understood why Optimus was so fearful of him ... and he suspected that similar treatment might be where Starscream’s unusual rage was coming from. For contained on that disk was every vile imagining he’d ever entertained in his darkest dreams, played out on one of the two mechs that mattered the most to him. If the silver tyrant could do such a thing to Optimus, it stood to reason that Starscream hadn’t been spared either.

No wonder this Starscream hated him, and now apparently, Optimus too.

It was a horrifying prospect, and Megatron recoiled from the images and recordings seared across his mind. He felt a wave of confused guilt, and took a step back, suddenly unsure what to do. But the uncertainty angered him, and he set his pedes a moment later. He was _not_ a monster, he had not committed these crimes, and he refused to be blamed for something he would never do.

Regaining confidence in himself, Megatron stepped forward and snarled denial after that sleek, insulting back plating. “I would _not_!”

“You _did_!” Starscream screeched right back.

“What was on the disk?” Skywarp whispered to Thundercracker. He hadn’t understood the insinuating tones, and Thundercracker muttered a soft, “no idea” as Megatron lost his cookies.

Enraged, Antlered Leader roared condemnation in Starscream’s face for the actions of some distant madmech. Across the way, Cyclonus and Demolisher looked completely baffled. They side-eyed each other and then both shrugged, completely in the dark, and perhaps that was for the best. They had simple processors and such evils as personal slaves wasn’t pleasant to contemplate.

For Starscream, though, the resulting tirade was an amazing experience. He found himself transported back in time to the short period of time when he’d actually respected Megatron, instead of hating his every bolt and wire. Alas, the moment was short-lived.

“I’ll prove it. Hand over the sparkling,” Megatron said, crossing his arms, “and I will show you I mean him no harm.”

Megatron had kept his optic on the ball as ever, turning the conversation back towards what he’d wanted. There was a good chance that he was telling the truth and he actually did have a spark somewhere under all that ornate armored plating, but Starscream didn't care. He turned on his heel and walked out of the work room, ending the encounter. Slamming the door behind him, he stopped and kicked it several times for good measure, and the open defiance felt so, so good.

"Your antlers look ridiculous!" Starscream shrieked through the door, wings flared. "And I hate your stupid face!"

"Well, I rather like your stupid face," Megatron called back almost airily, "and your wings are lovely too," and that reply was so unexpected that Starscream's plating fluffed up for the compliment and he just huffed and stormed away. Or at least he started to, making a good stomp of it until he reached the end of the central room and was forced to circle back around.

Inside Starscream’s cockpit, Oppy fainted for relief, and Thunders and 'Warp fanned him with their arm-nubs.

 

*******

It turned out that with a decent schematic and talented servos, energy coils weren’t that difficult to make.

It helped that Starscream demanded quiet so that he could concentrate. He was so quarrelsome after the fight as to send everyone packing in short order. Even Megatron had been driven away, though only after a few more failed attempts to hold Optimus.

“Do you want an energy coil or don’t you?!” Starscream had shrieked, and his cockpit had exploded with wildly excited sparking squeaks and beeps and Oppy even honked a few times.

Choking back his laughter, the defeated Megatron had retreated back to his quarters to “take stock” while Thundercracker and Skywarp went down for recharge. Then Cyclonus and Demolisher left to do a bit of light scouting, finally leaving Starscream in peace. The youngsters calmed down and he was relieved when everyone stayed out of his way and let him focus on his work. It didn’t take him long to slap together the start of a decent energy coil.

A few hours later and Demolisher returned from his scouting trip with news. He knocked on Megatron’s quarters, reporting that he’d spotted a group of drone soldiers nearby. Thundercracker and Skywarp were roused for all the noise, and everyone gathered in the central room. By that time most of the energy coil had been constructed, and Starscream decided it was time to get acquainted with the other Megatron.

Megatron, Cyclonus, and Demolisher were agreeable, but Thundercracker and Skywarp tried to argue with Starscream. They feared for his safety, and worried for the fact that they couldn’t offer him any backup, but Starscream wouldn’t budge.

Decision made, Megatron, Thundercracker, Skywarp, and Starscream headed out to where the drones had last been spotted, not far from the war world’s central core.  The deeper they ventured, the tenser everyone became.

They worked their way past what remained of a crew barracks, and Starscream could tell from the look of things that this had been a major battlefield. The fighting had been brutal, and the entire area was a complete mess.

Then Megatron waved everyone back, taking position behind a crumpled wall. “This is the area, according to Demolisher.”

“I’ve scouted out here before. Their patrols intersect here,” Thundercracker whispered, pointing towards a heavily re-enforced but unmanned barricade. “We sometimes see them organizing themselves behind the bulwark, which suggests their base is somewhere past it, inside this sector.”

“That’s the best you can direct me?” Starscream demanded, surprised.

Skywarp shrugged. “There’s at least fifty drones still functional, and the patrols are tight. The few times I’ve tried to sneak in, I was spotted in seconds.”

After mumbling something about incompetent leadership, Starscream stepped out and peered around the fallen wall to get his bearings. The battered barricade was a relic from the short war that the other Megatron had won. It was covered in scorch marks, as was the walls.

“Don’t wait around for me,” Starscream said as he started forward.

Starscream waved off his trine’s offers of good luck. His part in their plan was already well hashed out, and he was eager to get out of this pocket dimension and back into his proper dimension. He had an assassination to orchestrate back home, and he wanted to get on it while mechs were still unhappy with Glorious Leader.

_Wharp!_

‘Warp rematerialized on his customary spot on Starscream’s helm. He began climbing down Starscream’s face with a “cheep!” of greeting. His cheerful optics met Starscream’s irritated ones, though he didn’t take the hint because, well, he didn't believe in hints. Tell it like it is so he can ignore you properly, that was his motto. And anyway, he was all fresh from his nap and in the mood for a good time.

“No way. You stay inside,” Starscream said as he grabbed at the squirrelly seekerlet. “This is serious, I am being serious right now. Now you stay in my cockpit or else.”

“Cheep-cheep ... cheep?”

“Or else I will think of something!”

Starscream was on his second attempt to get ‘Warp back into his cockpit when Megatron called after him. “Perhaps the sparklings should be left with us, for safety’s sake?”

Starscream hesitated. Leaving them behind would serve a dual purpose and he understood that instantly. He knew how Megatron thought. This little offer would let Megatron hold little Optimus Prime like he was dying to do, and it would ensure that Starscream returned to them, if only for his trine mates.

Instantly annoyed, Starscream snorted and waved off the notion. He wasn’t interested in such maneuverings and games. “I think not. They are staying with me where it’s safe.”

“Starscream,” and a moment later Thundercracker’s hand landed on his shoulder. “It’s a good idea, actually. You can tell that Megatron you have to come back to us, that we are holding your trine mates hostage. You could even use it as a reason to ‘betray’ us.”

Starscream turned and stared, looking between Thundercracker and Megatron. He didn’t like the idea in the slightest, but couldn’t refute the logic. It would be a much more compelling reason then what he’d been planning.

Starscream frowned. “I don’t trust you.”

“We won’t hurt them, obviously!” and Skywarp was back to looking hurt again while Thundercracker lifted his wings in a frustrated gesture and flicked in wing-speak, ‘I don’t know what you want from me.’

Starscream rolled his optics and flicked back, ‘Still don’t trust you with them.’

Megatron dropped his hands onto his hips and looked annoyed. “I agree with you that my counterpart is a wretched waste of metal. But I am not him, as your own trine mates can attest. You have my word that the sparklets are safe with us no matter what happens, and in that I know I speak for everyone here.”

Starscream wasn’t going to accept that, but ‘Warp ended up making the decision for him.

_Wharp!_

Megatron blinked and glanced upwards as ‘Warp peeked out from between his tines and started squeaking “Meeespee! Meeespee! Meeespee!”

“Mini-me!” Skywarp shouted happily. “You’ve been practicing!”

With a sigh, Megatron reached up and grasped the bouncing ‘Warp, who disappeared into his massive servo, still squeaking wildly however muffled for Megatron’s gentle fingers. Then, and with a pointed look at Starscream, Megatron handed the squeaky seekerlet off to Thundercracker without so much as the tiniest dent in his little plating.

“He’s getting so good at talking!” Skywarp exclaimed proudly. He merrily ignored Thundercracker’s sharp hiss of “stop yelling you twit!” and the even sharper back-of-the-helm smack.

Megatron's warning glare did shut Skywarp up, though it ended up being for naught, as once transferred, ‘Warp exploded into a muffled waterfall of happy beeps, cheeps, and squeaks from inside Thundercracker’s cockpit, and now neither Skywarp was bothering to keep his vocalizer down, as if they were already back home and not right out in the middle of nowhere and probably surrounded by enemies.

“Surrounded by idiots,” Starscream grumbled but grudgingly handed Thunders and Oppy over to Thundercracker. “I am holding you responsible for them. I _will_ leave your aft here to starve if you cross me on this.”

Thundercracker merely nodded.

Then Thundercracker smiled at the dignified way Oppy rolled from his hand to his cockpit seat. He hesitated as for a moment it seemed Oppy and Thunders were going to argue, but merely snuggled together, both of their mobility gluteals half on and half off the cockpit seat. It was a sweet moment, utterly dashed when 'Warp landed on top of them, aggressively snuggling in-between them which resulted in both Oppy and Thunders falling off the cockpit seat entirely.

"Squeak!" the shameless little purple seekerlet called down to them in triumph, only to look concerned when it was clear that Thunders and Oppy were planning and plotting something from the cockpit floor. Their little heads were pressed together and they were peeping back and forth in a conspirator-y sort of way.

"...squeak?"

"Beep," Oppy answered, his optics half-closed while Thunders tried to look all innocent. Pranksters they were not, and 'Warp wasn't fooled, though he _was_ outnumbered, and a moment later the two of them pounced on him, and the three were back to battling over the treasured cockpit seat.

Meanwhile, Thundercracker relaxed as he locked them inside the safety of his cockpit – a perfect mirror of Starscream’s own – and then Starscream turned away without another word.

*******

“I demand to see Megatron!”

Starscream shouted at the first set of drone guards he encountered, but they vanished into thin air as he approached.

_What in the name of Megatron's saggy ...?_

Confused, Starscream stood for a long moment and then continued down the corridor. It wasn’t long before he heard pede steps stomping his direction. This squad of drones was larger, but Starscream stood his ground and shouted his demands again. Then he darted to the side when they opened fire instead of speaking to him, but curiously only one drone actually fired his weapon. The others made the motions, but there were no shots fired.

Instantly realizing why, Starscream leapt over the fallen scrap he was using for cover and charged forward. He rapidly overpowered the single drone, and the hologram projections of the other drones faded away.

 _They must be worse off than the others realized to resort to such trickery,_ Starscream thought. He smirked as he dangled the drone, his fingers clenching painfully around the groaning unfortunate while he snarled, “I said, I demand to see Megatron!”

“Hello, Starscream.”

Starscream whirled to face the speaker while using the drone as a living shield, and it was a good thing.

_SHOOM!_

Starscream felt a blast of heat as Megatron fired, and the drone died in his place, serving as a warning and example. This was classic Megatron, a shock and awe tactic Glorious Leader employed whenever he had disposables at his command.

Starscream dropped the drone and kicked him away for good measure. He was feeling reasonably assured that Megatron was at least going to listen to him if he bothered with an example, and so held his ground instead of fleeing. _Make a return gesture, something flashy,_ he thought and stepped forward, wings swept back as if entirely unconcerned.

Megatron liked displays of boldness, though Starscream took care to keep his servos out and away from his body where Megatron could see them, while also taking care to look supremely confident.

It seemed to work, or at least Megatron didn’t reduce him to a pile of smoldering scrap, and Starscream stopped a few wing-lengths away and paused to look Megatron over, as Megatron was doing to him now.

Sharkticon indeed … this Megatron was particularly fierce. His silver plating was a gleam, and his optics were an eerie purple. He still had his standard, raspy voice, but that was where the similarities ended. His frame was harsher-looking than all of the others combined, with sharp, stabbing edges everywhere.

Megatron’s optics smoldered with malice and dark intent, and suddenly Starscream was grateful of Thundercracker’s last minute insistence of taking the youngsters. His story was much stronger, and that was good as he could tell this Megatron was no doddering fool. He strongly reminded Starscream of his own Glorious Leader, only without the hindrance of madness, and Starscream upped his game accordingly.

“ _They_ sent me here,” Starscream said without preamble and he bared his denta for anger he didn’t have to fake. “They are holding the rest of my trine captive and they sent me here to betray you. I demand your help in retrieving them! And in return I will help you escape … instead of helping them.”

Megatron’s helm tilted and then he chuckled. His fusion cannon was pointed at Starscream’s face an instant later. “And _why_ would I not simply shoot you here – traitorous wretch that you are – and leave you _all_ to your fates?”

“Because I can create a new energy coil for you,” Starscream said with a toss of his helm and a smirk, “and fix the teleporter.”

Outside, Starscream was all boldness and confidence, but inside, his internals were quivering as he watched Megatron stroke the trigger. This was the most dangerous moment, and he sensed this Megatron was capable of anything.

…but it seemed Starscream’s gambit worked.

Megatron finally lowered his cannon, though not without hesitation. “I _am_ having a problem rebuilding the energy coil that was stolen,” he admitted, then tilted his helm. “And yet it might be easier simply to reclaim the old coil from my enemy then bother with you.”

Starscream rolled his optics. “Oh don’t insult me. It’s obvious that you don’t have enough drones left to storm that pompous fool’s little hidey-hole, or you would have done so already,” he pointed out, flicking a wing back at the smoldering corpse.

“Perhaps,” and Megatron began fingering the trigger again, clearly unconvinced. “Yet I question if you have the skill necessary to complete such a task.”

“I have a schematic to work from,” Starscream said, and then crossed his arms over his chest. “And no, I will _not_ be showing it to you.” He knew the bastard would simply take a vid-shot of any visual offered and then shoot him an instant later.

Thwarted, Megatron chuckled again. It was a deceptively pleasant sound, as was the click of his fusion cannon’s safety being engaged.

“Follow me.”


	6. Me, Myself, and Megatron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Starscream faces down his worst enemy. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Abusive relationships between adult robots.

 

Megatron, Thundercracker, and Skywarp headed back the way they came, leaving the area with haste the moment Starscream disappeared down the corridor.

Worried for his brother from another batcher, Thundercracker pinged Starscream, unofficially asking for an open, private comm line. It was untraceable and would allow them to keep in contact, and he was pleased when Starscream accepted his ping and chose to leave his comm line open. TC made sure to mute his end, and then shared the link with Skywarp, though neither mentioned it to Megatron.

Meanwhile, the three sparklets had settled down, and Thundercracker was studiously ignoring the expectant looks Megatron kept sending his way. He had every intention of following Starscream’s wishes.

“I’m going to keep him in my cockpit,” Thundercracker finally said, breaching the subject as soon as they were far enough away that it was safe to talk. “It’s safer, and it’s what Starscream would want.”

“I would have thought it obvious, but apparently I must be clear,” Megatron announced. He stopped in the hallway for a moment and dropped his hands to his hips. “As a matter of honor I do _not_ push carriers down flights of stairs, steal energon-pops from sparklets, or kick puppies. As such, I have no intention of harming Optimus. I merely wish to hold him, and a little faith would be appreciated.”

“Yeah, we know that,” Skywarp said, “but you _were_ teasing him and he scares easy, being a sparkling and all. If he ends up a hot mess, Screamer’s going to be torqued.”

“I didn’t realize how fearful Optimus was,” Megatron pointed out. “And you must admit that the situation seems entirely humorous, at least at first. You yourself have been flouncing around like a star-struck fool since they arrived.”

“Hey! I don’t flounce!” Skywarp protested with flaring wings, “and Starscream hasn’t struck me even once yet!”

Thundercracker sighed. “I don’t know what was on that disk and I’m sure I don’t want to know. But we need Starscream’s help to escape. That’s the bottom line, right? So we should stay in his good graces, especially with a request as simple as this.”

Megatron couldn’t deny the logic. He frowned and his optics unfocused. He was irritated that he’d made such a poor impression on Starscream right out of the gate. If he had any idea what Starscream and Optimus had been through, he certainly wouldn’t have been so careless with his demands. Mostly. But the damage was already done, and any hope of gaining Starscream’s trust and confidence seemed dashed. That meant this might be his only chance to hold Optimus, and he was unwilling to back down.

“ _Thundercracker_.”

There was an enormous amount of sentiment behind that single word — just what did a moose have to do to convince his own soldiers of his sincerity for primus sake?! — but Thundercracker only hunched his shoulders and doubled down. “We should get back to the base as quickly as possible.”

“Don’t want to get caught by a squad of drones with these little guys,” Skywarp agreed, taking his cues from Thundercracker’s flicking wings.

Now Megatron was scowling. "They are safe with me—”

“Not according to Starscream. He even said that since moose aren’t paternal that I should keep an optic on you,” Skywarp said, seemingly careless with his words. Then his optics flew wide as a pair of incredulous antlers swung his direction.

“ _What_ did you just say?”

Skywarp promptly slapped a hand over his mouth and added through his fingers, “I meant that in an informative way only … even though maybe he’s kind of right. About moose, I mean. That they aren’t paternal.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed threateningly and Skywarp’s wings dropped as he kept trying to backtrack from his statements, though he only succeeded in digging himself deeper. “Not that you are a moose or moose-like in any way. I mean, obviously! … even though you both have antlers.”

‘Warp’s round little face popped up in Thundercracker’s cockpit window so fast there was an audible _ping_ and he trilled the equivalent of “dig up, stupid!” which sounded something like “squeak squeak BEEP!”

“I’m trying! I’m trying! I’m digging up as hard as I can!” Skywarp yelped back, hands and wings waving in a frantic gesture of submission. “It’s just I’m talking and I can’t shut up!”

Megatron lifted a fist, but didn’t drop the hammer on his yammering minion. He was teetering on the verge of applying the backhand of authority to the face of tomfoolery, and yet was acutely aware he’d promised not to frighten the youngsters.

Decisions, decisions.

Then, and with a _screel_ of grinding denta, Megatron chose to take the high road. He was too intent on proving his point. His helm dropped slightly and he closed his optics and there was a distinct possibility he was counting to ten instead of outright clobbering Skywarp ... and then the moment passed. Megatron dropped his fist and continued walking, though he couldn't help but shoot daggers with his optics when his idiotic minion continued to spout inane prattle.

Meanwhile, Thundercracker flicked in wingspeak, ‘Thanks, buddy, I owe you one’ as Skywarp expertly held Megatron’s attention while Thundercracker hurried ahead, the three youngsters still tucked in his cockpit.

The remaining walk was peaceful enough. They chose a little-known route to the surface instead of mucking around in the war world’s shattered internals, as the two seekers were far more lethal in open skies. But once they reached the relative safety of the surface, Megatron was quick to press the issue.

Megatron turned towards Thundercracker …

…only to see an empty space where Thundercracker had been standing. In his place was a sheepish trail of dust marking where he’d jetted away, heading back towards the base.

“Did he just _flee_ from me?” Megatron demanded incredulously.

Skywarp didn’t even hesitate. “Well, everyone knows moose _are_ foul-tempered. A moose bit my batcher once…” but Skywarp trailed off when Megatron turned and silenced him with a commanding stare. Oh right, the sparklings were out of range, which meant making fun of Megatron now had consequences.

Fair enough.

Skywarp readily assumed the position (a preemptive cringe) as Megatron warmed up the Backhand of Authority … but then aborted when Megatron heard a teeny _wharp_ sound and Thunders, ‘Warp, and a completely startled Oppy appeared, all perched on Skywarp’s shoulders.

“Meeooopse!” and ‘Warp lifted his arm nubs as if demanding a hug, while Thunders fluffed his delicate plating and regarded his brother's antics with a stern little frown. Next to Thunders, Oppy was still adjusting to his surroundings. His audials flicked forward and oriented on all the new sounds. He looked to the left, looked to the right, looked down at himself, and then looked up at Antlered Leader, rolling backwards with a startled “cheep!”

"Hello, Optimus Prime." Megatron greeted the youngster, and now he was smiling. "I ... am happy to see you. You and I were parted too swiftly, and I regret  frightening you," and he extended his hand, which Oppy watched with a healthy dose of skepticism.

'Warp had no such qualms.

He teleported right into Megatron's outstretched hand, and then rolled up the massive arm, up to and across the shoulder, up the side of Megatron's neck to finally reach the top of his helm. He turned and straightened himself, and began rolling back and forth between the massive tines.

Megatron held perfectly still throughout. Emboldened, Oppy actually rolled forward just a bit, and then Skywarp stepped back, making the gulf between Megatron's outstretched fingers and Skywarp's shoulder too far for the little sparklet to manage.

"Skywarp," Megatron said through clenched teeth.

“What?” Skywarp asked with wide eyes, checking over himself — everywhere but his shoulders — as if in a panic. “Do I have a spider on me or something?” and in the meantime 'Warp teleported back over and began bouncing on Skywarp's helm while Skywarp made a show of checking his turbines.

A moment later a massive CRACK-BOOM shook the skies as Thundercracker circled back around and laid down the law. “You three, back in my cockpit **RIGHT NOW**!” and the last was boomed out through Thundercracker’s powerful engine. He meant business and with a panicked squeak, ‘Warp teleported all three sparklings right back into Thundercracker’s cockpit as ordered.

"I thought you said you didn't want to frighten them," Megatron called up to Thundercracker. His hands were back on his hips, and Antlered Leader was looking put out that he hadn't managed to coax Optimus into his hand. Being calm and supportive and ... and... _paternal_ was harder then it looked.

“Oh come on TC!” Skywarp shouted up after the streaking blue jet, “I’ve been begging to hold them all fragging day! It’s my turn!” But other than a terse warning about watching one’s language, Thundercracker didn’t pause. He just flew away, back towards the safety of the hidden base.

Hope dashed, Megatron just sighed as the sleek jet vanished over the horizon. Then, and without the slightest warning, he backhanded Skywarp, promptly providing the much delayed smackdown now that the youngsters were out of sight.

“Okay, I totally deserved that,” Skywarp called sheepishly from where he was splayed upside down against the closest wall, much like a squished bug. “And for the record, I was just kidding. I love your fashion sense. Huge fan, seriously.”

Megatron just groaned. “When did my life become so ridiculous?”

“So, was that a serious question or…?”

Megatron didn’t answer. Leaving Skywarp to sort himself, he transformed and made his way back towards the base.

 

***

 

“Follow me.”

Megatron took the lead, setting a leisurely pace. “I expect a full report, including all enemy weaknesses,” he rasped over his shoulder.

Starscream snorted. “Well, obviously. Though it might take me all evening to list out all of your,” and he caught himself just in time, “ _enemy’s_ many failings.”

Megatron eyed Starscream with a speculative optic. He hadn’t missed the slight change in inflection, but didn’t press the issue. Instead he guided Starscream deeper into the war world.

 _We are heading roughly in the direction of the core,_ Starscream noted, committing as much as he could to memory. He still remembered the basic layout of the world ship, but the damaged hallways and collapsed corridors made everything look the same. It wasn’t long before he lost his sense of direction, which he suspected was intentional.

 _After all,_ _the bastard does nothing without a reason. He’s always six steps ahead of any situation. I don’t like this at all,_ and Starscream was feeling less and less in control of the situation than he wished. Nevertheless, he continued to follow Megatron, stifling his growing sense of unease to focus on the task at hand.

_Just stay calm and keep on his good side, get the layout of his base, figure out how many drones he has left, take advantage of any and all weaknesses, and get the frag out without being reduced into a smoldering pile of slag._

Starscream eyed the thick metal landscape of Megatron’s shoulder blades as he walked. This wasn’t the best plan he’d ever come up with, but it wasn’t like he had much to work with. He didn’t have the physical strength to pull off anything more direct then mere deception, though he couldn’t help but imagine sinking a blade into the delicate fuel lines leading to Vicious Leader’s spark.

It remained a fantasy unfulfilled.

Starscream knew he wouldn’t survive the attempt. Even presented with Megatron’s back, he knew better then to consider it a foolish weakness. That thick, weathered armor could withstand a few stab attempts and in the meantime, Megatron would turn and finish him in a sparkbeat.

Starscream also suppressed the desire to fill the ominous quiet with chatter. He hated prolonged silences, but had a suspicion this long walk was intentional. _Give him nothing to use against me,_ he reminded himself as they strode ever deeper into the war world.

The tension was so thick that Starscream’s wings twitched when an internal ping sounded within his HUD and a side screen popped in his display. It was a comm request on a private channel, and he covered his reaction by pretending to stumble over a bit of scrap.

“Miserable slaghole,” Starscream muttered aloud, then bit his lip when he heard Megatron’s dark chuckle. It was confirmation that Vicious Leader was none the wiser, and Starscream regarded the comm request. Finally and against his better judgment, he chose to answer it.

It was Thundercracker, but other than a confirmation ID, he didn’t speak.

Starscream realized his alternate trine mate wanted the reassurance of an open comm line. He wasn’t inclined and debated just how loyal he intended to be with his alternate trine, reminding himself that they weren’t actually his family. Then he remembered his real trine mates were back with the other Megatron and his team, and that ended those musings.

 _Oh, whatever_ , and Starscream chose to honor the request, leaving his side open. Without Soundwave lurking in every crevice, nook, and cranny, there was pretty much no chance that this channel would be detected.

Starscream had just accepted and locked down the open line when another confirmation sounded, suggesting Thundercracker was sharing the line with one other. Probably Skywarp. He knew TC would know better than to include Antlered Leader. He would have immediately killed the line, simply for spite.

“How much farther?” Starscream demanded, and then added for Thundercracker’s benefit, “It feels like we have been walking towards the core for breems. If you intend to kill me, just get on with it and spare me the annoyance.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Then, and with a harsh grunt, Megatron lashed out at an inconspicuous section of wall, and forced it aside. He stepped inside, turned, and gestured sardonically.

“Finally,” Starscream said, so that Thundercracker could mark his coordinates. Not even a full day and he had already uncovered Vicious Leader’s hidden base.

Wings stretched to their fullest extent, Starscream followed Megatron down the last section of corridor. Glancing around, he recognized the symbols on the precariously leaning wall, along with a small stream of leaking coolant.

“This is near the central core,” Starscream said, eyeing the crumbling foundations and yellowish fluid trickling along the wall. “The cooling system has been breached. I assume that means you are draining the last of the energon for fuel?”

“That is correct. Alas for our extended stay, the inner core is nearly depleted. We have saved enough energon for a single group transport, but beyond that, we have only a few days’ worth of energy left.”

There was a glimmer of sharp fang behind Megatron’s lips, and then he began tapping on a basic security pad attached to a battered security door, which was miraculously still standing.

Starscream noted the position of Megatron’s bladed fingers and memorized the code for later. “And then?”

“Then we are down to whatever is left in our enemy’s fuel tanks,” Megatron replied, “and after that, deactivation.”

 

***

Antlered Leader was on the hunt.

It must be said that Thundercracker did his best to uphold Starscream’s wishes and tried to stay away from Megatron, even to the point of hiding in a closet, as unusual and unseemly as that might normally be for such a distinguished seeker.

Moving leisurely, Megatron rolled after the fleeing Thundercracker, persistent as death. His pace was slow and sedate, though more for his simmering injuries than anything else. He was so stoic that it was easy to forget how damaged he still was.

Thundercracker was doing a decent job hiding, no matter his personal feelings on avoiding adversity, but Optimus was making things difficult for him. The little sparklet was having trouble settling down to recharge, and kept wriggling around. He would go rolling across Thundercracker’s dashboard and hopping down to his cockpit seat and then back to the dashboard.

And damn it all, but Thundercracker was ticklish in there.

While hiding from Megatron, the besieged Thundercracker tried everything he could think of to settle the youngster down. Lullabies recounting seeker superiority, rocking back and forth as if in flight, and even stories about defeating Autobots had no effect — though thanks to his efforts ‘Warp and Thunders were dead asleep — and now he was running out of ideas.

“You are going to get us caught,” Thundercracker warned down to the squirming youngster while the adult himself squirmed. Then there was a sudden crack of light, and mildly amused red optics peered down at Thundercracker.

“Have you considered taking him for a walk?” Megatron asked with that smooth-as-glass tone and Thundercracker knew he was in for it.

“Sir, Starscream was very clear about—”

“Hand him over,” Megatron interrupted, holding out his hand. “I’ll take Optimus for a walk while you recover your sense of dignity.”

Thundercracker coughed and considered making a run for it, but Megatron was blocking the utility door with his ridiculously massive bulk. He was peering down at Thundercracker with a firm expression and Thundercracker knew he wouldn’t make it.

_Wharp!_

“You know what,” Skywarp announced, “a walk is a great idea! Let’s go!”

_Wharp!_

Megatron stared down at the now empty space his two most powerful and competent seeker warriors had been… and sighed.

Back to the hunt.

 

***

 

Vicious Leader’s expression was cold as he escorted Starscream into the more secured areas of his base. “The engineering bay has been converted to a laboratory. It is there that you will complete your task.”

“The sooner the better,” Starscream agreed.

Starscream had already committed the base’s layout to memory, calculated the few remaining drones, memorized the access code to the primary entrance, and had even worked out the best way to extract himself from this Megatron’s clutches.

_Make a little progress on their energy coil — the part I need to complete the other coil — and then inform this Megatron that part of the apparatus will need to be salvaged from the other base. Then offer to go back and steal it from them. As soon as I get back to the other base, I convince that Megatron to attack immediately. As soon as everyone engages, I can combine the pieces and complete the energy coil. Then slip away in the confusion, sending myself and my trine back to our universe._

It was the most workable plan he could slap together, and in his mind it wasn’t half bad considering how little he had to work with.

Megatron and Starscream entered the war world’s massive engine room, now functioning as a fortified command center. It was clean and well organized, and Starscream could feel Shockwave’s cold and calculating presence everywhere. Especially where Shockwave’s deactivated and scavenged frame lay propped up in a corner.

“You remain as efficient as ever,” Starscream noted.

His lips twisted for the casual way the body was discarded, but to be fair, the Decepticons had never been sentimental over mortal remains. Anyone fool enough to be deactivated tended to be scavenged without a qualm.

“He would expect nothing less,” Megatron replied as he led Starscream past Shockwave’s fallen husk without a sideways glance. Their pede steps echoed off the walls — Megatron’s steps slow and steady — and the deeper Starscream went, the more entering this Megatron’s territory felt like dancing with the devil.

“You said you were having trouble creating a new energy coil,” Starscream said, ducking under a low-hanging beam. “How far along are you?”

“Not very. Progress has been stalled, thanks to the incompetence of my remaining soldier. I look forward to introducing you,” and Megatron gave Starscream a cold smile to go along with the curious statement.

They walked down the final hall, and Starscream could feel that Megatron was watching him carefully. Waltzing into the converted laboratory to begin work was much the same as his previous experience, with one alarming difference.

There was another version of Starscream already present. He was silver with red highlights, and sported a long, slender chevron. He was sleek and slender with arching high heeled pedes … in short, absolutely stunning.

Starscream stopped dead in his tracks, and the two of them stared at each other while Megatron enjoyed their moment of mutual shock.

“Starscream,” Megatron said with a harsh smile and flourish, “Meet my new and improved Starscream,” and then his smile vanished like a ghost as he added, “I have been assured that he is far more competent then _you_.”

The open contempt was so thick as to be choking. Both versions of Starscream appeared taken aback, and then the slender Starscream retreated back a step and stammered fearful excuses that amounted to nothing at all.

 

***

 

“Did you hear that?!”

Skywarp’s wings thrust upward so hard it was almost audible. “There’s another Starscream here! Why haven’t we ever seen him?”

"Quiet!" Thundercracker demanded, backing up his orders with his wings, waving Skywarp off. The comm line wasn’t the best, and he was trying to focus on the conversation, but the more he listened, the less he liked anything he was hearing.

Skywarp looked away with a huff. That quieted his chatter for just long enough that what he was hearing over the private comm line really clicked. His wings drooped and he shot his trine mate a bewildered look. “What the hell am I _hearing_ , TC?”

“This is not good,” Thundercracker said. Inside his cockpit, the sparklings were awake from their too-short nap thanks to all the excitement. Now they were playing some sort of chasing game with each other, evidence that their minds had slipped that much further.

Leaving them to their game, Thundercracker double checked to make sure the sparklings couldn’t hear anything from his cockpit speakers. The slag coming through the private comm line wasn’t fit to be heard.

Then Skywarp’s wings flicked nervously. “Oh hey, I think our Megs is coming this way.”

Thundercracker straightened, and sure enough, the sound of tromping pedes began echoing down the corridor. “Oh for the love of—”

“You know, as foul-tempered moose go, our Megs isn’t so bad,” Skywarp remarked, reaching for Thundercracker.

_Wharp._

 

***

 

Vicious Leader seemed to relish his second’s fear, and reiterated his harsh criticisms of slender Starscream while praising his new Starscream.

“I said nothing of the sort,” Starscream countered, feeling the sting even though all the insults were directed at his counterpart. “I told you I have a schematic to work from.”

Starscream stepped forward even as his counterpart continued to retreat. He openly defied the cruel words and effectively put Vicious Leader on notice that he wasn’t playing along with any mind games. There seemed no reason to blame the slender Starscream of anything, especially since he was trying to build something from memory only.

 _Eat jet fumes, you fragging sadist,_ Starscream thought, and then turned and inspected the energy coil as a distraction.

It was only partially constructed, but what was there  _—_ while largely incomplete — was well made. There were plenty of materials available to complete it, and if he didn’t absolutely _hate_ this Megatron and if his trine mates weren’t relying on him, he would have abandoned Antlered Leader and simply completed the coil right here.

 _Damn me and my soft, sentimental spark,_ Starscream thought while simultaneously tuning out the sharp sound of metal-striking-metal behind him.

“You don’t rest until my energy coil is complete,” Megatron announced, stretching his servo where it stung. He eyed both jets as if contrasting them. The slender Starscream agreed instantly while rubbing at his shiny new dent, but Starscream held his ground.

“That will depend on the resources you can provide me,” Starscream announced right back, weaving the first layer of lies necessary to save his little trine mates. “This energy coil is far from finished and I don’t have what I need to complete it. I will need more components.”

Megatron immediately rounded on his slender second-in-command. “And here you have been telling me you had everything you needed,” he snarled. He began moving aggressively towards slender Starscream, who only stammered and gave ground.

‘What are you doing?’ Starscream flicked at his other self, behind Megatron’s back so he couldn’t see. ‘You didn’t have a schematic to work from! It’s not your fault, so stand up for yourself for frag’s sake!’

But the slender Starscream did nothing of the sort. He merely tried to appease Megatron, which only seemed to encourage him.

Starscream watched out of the corner of his optic as his slender counterpart retreated from Vicious Leader, even going so far as to put the work bench between them, though Megatron merely circled the desk like a predator stalking prey. It was clear to Starscream that their relationship was the definition of toxic, but he wasn’t in a position to challenge Megatron, especially if this version of himself wasn’t going to back him up.

 _He knows better than I do how to deal with this maniac,_ Starscream consoled himself, and then returned his attention back to his own plotting. He looked the energy coil over and began to piece together what to tell Megatron to convince him he needed more components, and yet he regretted that part of his plan – however necessary – as it cast his counterpart in a negative light, clearly to his detriment.

The slender Starscream was so flustered as to not control his wings properly, and they were slanted fearfully. The implications were beyond upsetting, and Starscream found himself having flashbacks to the last few months spent with Glorious Leader, being forced to endure his growing insanity.

“Do you mind?” Starscream snapped at Megatron, wanting — _needing_ — him to stop. “I need quiet to work.”

Megatron reacted instantly to the insolent tones. He turned towards Starscream, looming dangerously. But Starscream was used to the bullying, apparently more so then his slender counterpart, and so he held his ground. He glared up at Vicious Leader and tapped at the energy coil to remind him of certain priorities.

“If you insist,” Megatron said, and then pointed at the slender Starscream. “Come, Starscream. Since you have proven useless to me here, I will think of a better use for your sorry frame.”

Megatron gestured at the ground as if signaling a turbo hound to heel. There was a terribly familiar eagerness behind those eerie eyes, and the slender Starscream cringed. For the terrible fear Starscream saw there, he suddenly understood what Skywarp had been referring to. _You are going to hate him, especially when you see how he treats everyone..._ and hate him, Starscream must certainly did.

“I need his help,” Starscream snarled without thinking. He pointed at his counterpart, and the slender Starscream perked up.

Megatron bristled, instantly on the offensive. “I thought you said you had the skill needed to complete the energy coil."

There was a threat behind those words, but Starscream didn’t blink and he didn’t back down. Instead, he stomped forward and roared, “Do you want an energy coil or _don’t you?!”_

Megatron reared back in surprise, but then laughed. “It’s been a long time since I have seen such spirit from you!” Then his expression thinned. “Very well, but work swiftly. I expect great things and will be back in an hour for an update,” and with that he strode out, leaving the two jets to their work.

At first there was only silence.

Starscream assumed he was being monitored. He provided his counterpart a few basic instructions and the both of them began working on the energy coil as promised. He worked diligently, but also watched his other self like a hawk.

 _I wonder what sort of plan he has to strand Megatron here,_ mused Starscream, already indulging in dark fantasies. _Hopefully it’s something painful. I would never stand for such treatment … but how to ask without Megatron catching wind of it?_

Starscream tried to be subtle as he worked on one of the components, and although he caught slender Starscream’s optic several times, his counterpart never responded to any attempts to open a private line. He kept his attention on his work and the _tap-tap-tap_ of his bladed fingertips on the battered console was distracting.

 _Keeping things close to his chest plates,_ Starscream decided with some approval.

The slender Starscream followed all instructions without issue. There was nothing wrong with his counterpart, at least as far as Starscream could tell. The flinching and cringing and stuttering and giving ground _was_ concerning, and things seemed particularly bad here.

Starscream had so many questions and he held himself back for as long as he could, but because he hated long silences _and_ as tact was not one of his strong suits, he finally gave up and took the plunge. “So when did this start?”

The slender Starscream blinked and looked over at him. “When … did _what_ start?”

“You know what,” Starscream said. He flicked a thumb towards the door and then pointed at the new dent on his counterpart’s frame. “We’ve always been his whipping boy when he’s in a bad mood, but this feels different.”

“I’m … not sure what you mean,” slender Starscream said. The insecurity was painful to see, surely the results of years of poor treatment. It was becoming obvious that Megatron had ground this version of himself down to shards.

“Don’t play coy with me,” Starscream demanded, frustrated to be shut out. “It doesn’t suit either of us.”

Called out on his hedging, the slender Starscream sighed and then shrugged. “He was always rough, but ever since he came back from a deep space mission, he’s been imbibing dark energon as a power enhancer. It's making him act particularly intense. I am hoping he will calm down once we get back to normal space.”

“He's taking some sort of stimulant like a drugged out empty?! You are letting him push you around while merely hoping things are going to get better? And how is _that_ working for you?”

“I swore myself to him,” said slender Starscream, and then his optics dimmed. “I am his instrument of destruction. He may do with me as he pleases.”

It took Starscream a moment to process that answer. It sounded so … rote. Like something oft repeated and likely reinforced with a fist. It was so utterly unexpected that he could only assume his counterpart was dead set on hiding his devious plans to defeat Vicious Leader from him.

Understandable, of course.

Dethroning Megatron was serious business, and Starscream had always had difficulty trusting others with his ingenious plans. But the bottom line was that they were both short on options. They needed to work together for his good — the greater good _—_ and if he could get some help defeating this Megatron, well they were both better off for it.

And so Starscream just gave up and started over, getting straight to the question he’d been edging around, the expectation he’d had the moment he laid eyes on this version of himself. He leaned forward and whispered, “Alright then, let me be bold. Just what is your plan for leaving that miserable slagheap behind to rot? And most importantly, how can I help?”

“Plan?” and slender Starscream had the audacity to flick his wings, as if the thought of betraying his leader made him feel guilty. Laughable, except for the defeated slant of his wings. Unthinkable, except for the gleam of shame in his eyes ... and then the dreadful truth hit.

“Wait, wait,” Starscream hissed, his wings dropping low. “Are you _seriously_ telling me that you aren’t even _trying_ to brutally murder him?”

“Of course not.”

“No scraplet in an oil cupcake?”

“No.”

“No rabid turbo-badger in the shower?”

 “No!”

“No slipping his servo into a dish of warm Gideon’s Glue while he sleeps?”

**“No!”**

Starscream just stared and the slender Starscream began to fidget. “Alright,” he admitted, “I did try to kill him, a few times — it never worked! And the last time he nearly scrapped me!”

“Yes, so?” Starscream scoffed. “That’s no reason not to keep trying. We are Decepticons, after all.”

“And Decepticons are the instruments of Megatron’s will, his power made manifest, the very embodiment of his wrath upon the accursed Autobots!”

There it was again, that answer on rote. Starscream blinked and was tempted to reset his audials as he was having trouble believing what he was hearing. “What does fighting Autobots have to do with what just happened here? What he is doing to you crosses the line, believe me. I face something similar back home and this isn’t normal. This isn’t the Decepticon way, or any way of life … nor should it be.”

Starscream stepped closer, deathly serious. “This is … _abuse_.”

Slender Starscream seemed startled to hear that. “I’ve made mistakes … you don’t understand. I tried to kill him.”

This time Starscream really did reset his audials, not that it helped. “You can’t just let this stand. He’s going to keep gouging away at you until there’s nothing left. If you can’t find the strength to fight him,” and here Starscream’s mouth quirked, “then you need to leave.”

Starscream flinched, his optics becoming unfocused. It was as if he was reliving some painful memory, and then he shook himself. “I tried striking out on my own, once. It didn’t go so well, and I’m not doing that again. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Bullslag,” Starscream snapped back, leaning in closer. “You can go back to your trine.”

The slender Starscream cringed. “I … can’t. They were lost in an attack vorns ago,” and again his optics grew distant. “They warned me he wasn’t good for me.”

“—not good for anyone,” Starscream muttered.

Once upon a time, punishment had been meted out and finished, and Megatron kept any truly _destructive_ actions and comments to his damned self. Back then, and although his own Megatron had always been an unmitigated pain in his aft port, at least he hadn’t been a complete waste of metal.

In that, Starscream had trained Glorious Leader well, at least until recently. But this version of Starscream seemed … different. He seemed more an intellectual and his frame was far lighter. Though he was swift and clever, he seemed outmatched, even unfairly so.

Starscream never backed down from undeserved mistreatment, but his counterpart had stopped standing up for himself entirely and certainly looked terrible. He seemed to rely on cowering and cringing to appease Megatron’s anger. It was a horrible plan … such reactions only spurred Vicious Leader to commit greater abuses.

“He didn’t used to be like this,” the slender Starscream muttered, inspecting a component he was holding between two fingers. Then a sound at the door startled him and he turned on his heel and dropped the component by mistake. It shattered and he flinched, looking haplessly down at the pieces with a horrified expression.

“Pathetic,” Megatron snarled from the door.

Their hour was up.

 

***

 

“Are you _hearing_ this?”

Thundercracker nodded. “Starscream’s lost his trine … he’s lost us … and now Megatron is going to kill him.”

“Eventually,” Skywarp agreed.

They were sitting together in another utility closet, this one cramped and rather cluttered. There was a basket of sleeping youngsters tucked between them. The tiny sparklings had devolved from happy playing to embattled meepery. The noise had become unmanageable until Thundercracker realized it was well past feeding time.

After cajoling Skywarp to help, everyone was fed and the angry meeps transformed into contented, sleepy chirps. The earlier nap hadn't been enough, and there were droopy optics everywhere.

Thundercracker had eyed the tiny space that was his cockpit and decided a utility crate lined with a warm thermal blanket would be a far better napping place. After dumping out a crate originally filled with spare parts, he'd wiped the crate out and then Skywarp disappeared and reappeared with a soft blanket. The warm, soft crate was an instant hit, and now everyone was recharging peacefully.

For the most part.

They were still being hunted. They had to relocate every so often, whenever Antlered Leader grew close enough to be a concern. But his strong, steady tread announced his approach every time, and Skywarp would teleport them to another closet further away.

Meanwhile, they listened quietly over the open comm as both Starscreams dealt with Vicious Leader. They heard the lopsided way the two of them handled the vicious Megatron, heard the tale-tell sounds of metal striking metal, and both traded harsh looks which became shared winces.

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Skywarp asked, laying his hand over his spark, over the empty spot in the trine bond where their Starscream had once dwelled, once considered lost forever, but never forgotten.

“You know I am,” Thundercracker replied.

Skywarp slammed his fists together with a fierce grin. “Intervention time.”

Skywarp and Thundercracker leaned close and plotted together, their wings flicking with excitement. They were so intent on planning out their rescue mission that they didn’t notice when the tips of oversized blue audials appeared at the edge of the crate, followed by oversized optics peeking over the edge.

Seeing his chance, Optimus Prime cocked his little head and made his move. He hopped out of the soft crate, landing on the closet floor with a barely audible peep. Keeping out of sight, he rolled out the cracked utility closet door and hurried down the hall.

The tiny Prime couldn’t remember much in the way of details anymore, but he knew he was supposed to be somewhere else. "Peep," he said to himself, poofing and then smoothing his delicate little plates, most pleased with himself. Somewhere, his people needed him. And wherever that place was, he was determined to get there, no matter the cost.

 

***

 

“About time you were back!” Starscream called sassily while mimicking Megatron’s _come-dog-heel_ gesture without the slightest qualm. “I have good news and bad news.”

Megatron had been just about to say something about the broken component — no doubt something unpleasant — but the impudent greeting cut him off and such boldness continued to surprise him.

“Leave it,” Starscream said, waving off his counterpart. “That part couldn’t be salvaged. It is part of what I need to steal from the other base.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” the slender Starscream stammered. He backed away from the broken part, and especially the approaching Megatron.

Starscream ignored his retreating counterpart and pointed at his mostly complete energy coil. “You wanted a report, well here it is. The bad news is that I don’t have what I need to finish this. The good news is that part of the old energy coil is still intact. I can just steal the last few components from the other base.”

Megatron’s face resembled a storm cloud until Starscream reminded him that the delay didn’t really matter. He needed to go back anyway to collect his “injured” trine. He was careful not to mention anything about ages.

“What do you need, exactly?” Megatron demanded, not wanting Starscream to leave his clutches. “We may be able to scavenge it from Shockwave’s frame, or from the war world itself.”

“Actually, master,” slender Starscream began, “We are running out of time. Wouldn’t it be more efficient to simply to steal what we need?”

Megatron snarled, “I didn’t ask _you._ ”

Then Megatron’s expression smoothed over in the next instant as he returned his attention to Starscream, as if favoring one over the other. It was an old game, a nasty popularity contest that no longer worked on Starscream. One had to value someone’s approval in order to desire it, and right now he wanted this Megatron — all Megatrons really — stone cold dead.

“We are running out of time,” Megatron said, echoing his second and then his voice became coaxing. “You may have to leave them behind to escape with us.” He dropped his servo onto Starscream’s shoulder and squeezed the pauldron. At the same time, while standing off to the side, the slender Starscream frowned and looked away. 

Megatron's bladed fingers did no damage, but his metal was colder then should be. The touch could have been interpreted as either supportive or threatening. It was hard to say, though Starscream erred on the side of caution. He chose to take the touch as a threat. His wings flicked as he stepped back and away.

“I have no intention of abandoning my trine,” Starscream retorted, suppressing a shudder.

“Then I insist that you give me the schematic for safe-keeping,” Megatron wheedled. Starscream’s optics narrowed. There it was … the knife’s-edge, the confirmation that Megatron had no intention of keeping his word.

Antlered Leader had been right to be suspicious.

 _Megatron's aggression_ _has been unchecked for some time for him to be so openly abusive._ _If I do what he wants, he will kill me right here, right now, simply for the pleasure of terrorizing my counterpart._ A horrifying thought, but Starscream had never been more certain of anything in his life.

“Frag you,” Starscream snapped, a retort grown easier over the last few vorns. “You think I am stupid enough to give you the only thing that makes me valuable to you? How little you know me.”

Behind Megatron, the slender Starscream’s mouth dropped for shock. He began making frantic negative motions, which Starscream ignored. But Megatron caught the movement and glanced over his shoulder. That nasty look was back in a flash, and the slender Starscream cringed and gave ground with a nervous laugh, lifting his hands in surrender.

Megatron laughed and answered, “Of course not, my dear Starscream. Though I admit, with your counterpart’s current lack of a spine” — and here he pointed dismissively at slender Starscream — “you can understand why I bothered to try.”

“Well, you always _were_ an unimaginative bully,” Starscream snapped back. His optics narrowed and his wings were still as stone, his expression even colder. He could read this Megatron like a bookfile, and he knew a textbook abuser when he saw one.

“There, you see, Starscream? That is how a Decepticon handles himself," Megatron announced, as if providing some sort of critical life-lesson. "Oh what we could accomplish together if only you weren’t so pathetic.”

The slender Starscream muttered, “Yes, master,” with a bitter twist of his lips. He shot an angry look at Starscream, unaware that isolation and the severing of all outside bonds was another common trait in that self-same text.

 _Megatron is flattering me just to upset my counterpart! It's so damned obvious but_ _he's_ _too close to this situation to see how he is being manipulated,_ and Starscream felt his spark sink within him when he realized what a terrible downward spiral his counterpart was trapped in. Things had escalated to the point that Vicious Leader wasn't even trying to be subtle with his manipulations. His mind games were all out in the open. It was obvious to anyone watching that Megatron was trying to make the slender Starscream jealous ... and from the way he was reacting, it was working.

Seeing these nasty little interactions was driving Starscream up the wall. Whatever this dark energon was, it was clearly bringing out the worst in Megatron, though that was no excuse. There was never an excuse for such behavior. Although this wasn’t his fight, Starscream didn’t back down from Megatron, not one micron.

“ _You_ are the pathetic one,” Starscream sneered, standing taller. “Relying on chemical stimulants for your strength. Whatever happened to your stance on mind-altering drugs?”

“Don’t try my patience—”

Starscream exploded into laughter. It was an ugly sound, filled with mockery. “I give respect where it is due and _you_ are due _none_.”

“Get out,” Megatron rasped. His optics flared and his sharkticon-teeth glinted. “Reclaim your pathetic trine and return immediately. Understand that treachery will be rewarded with death. I have no need for two of you.”

“Have one of your drones show me out,” Starscream demanded. He knew he was playing with fire, but barrelled onward regardless. He felt sick to his core and refused to leave on Megatron’s order, naming his own terms instead. “I will be back with what we need as soon as I can.”

“Very well,” Megatron said tersely, but then stepped closer. “But remember this, Starscream. If you betray me there is nowhere you can run.”

“Noted.”

“I want an open comm,” Megatron warned.

Then Megatron stepped back as Starscream turned to leave the lab. Thundercracker must have been listening in, because their secret comm line disconnected, and Starscream reluctantly opened a line with Megatron instead.

Starscream put as much distance between them as fast as was seemly, while behind him, he could hear the slender Starscream trying to give Megatron the more detailed report he was demanding.

Starscream’s scowl deepened when he heard Megatron say something needlessly rude, and heard his counterpart take his advice and attempt to stand up for himself.

It was a mistake.

There was a sound of metal on metal. Looking back over his shoulder, Starscream was enraged to see Megatron battering his slender counterpart without reason or mercy, and his engine growled. The slender Starscream was being physically and mentally battered, not unlike Optimus Prime had been. That was surely going to be his fate as well, and Starscream felt the hot coil of hatred grow ever tighter.

_Worthless piece of slag..._

But there was nothing he could do, not yet anyway. One of Megatron’s drones met him at the door and walked alongside him, and Starscream kept walking, leaving the dreadful scene behind him.

 


	7. Bot On A Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Optimus makes his move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: cuddle chapter

 

Optimus Prime was a bot on a mission.

He knew he was needed somewhere and was determined to find that place. Having finally escaped his caretakers – he no longer thought of them as captors – he was scooting along on his mobility gluteal as fast as he could scoot.

It wasn’t very fast.

The sheer vastness of the landscape he was exploring wasn’t helping his progress … or at least, everything felt vast to him. He was so small that the shattered room seemed more a valley, turning his simple search into an adventure.

Ever the sensible one, Oppy navigated the deep, cavernous cracks carefully to keep from falling in. They were barely ankle-deep to an adult, but to an imaginative sparklet, they were so scary! His little helm perked this way and that as he traveled, audials straining to their limits. Ever-so-often he encountered something interesting, like the handle of a broken scanner, cracked data pads, or other curious scrap. He was particularly attracted to anything red, and as soon as he spied the color he would hurry over and engage his little scanner.

A little light would blink between Oppy’s optics, radiating out and over the bit of scrap. Then the scan would finish, always blinking in the negative – the little bit of scrap wouldn’t do for a travel form – and the little sparkling took that to mean he hadn’t found whatever he was looking for.

“Beep,” squeaked Oppy, disappointed, and then hurried onward.

He was searching for something he could no longer name, or even picture in his mind anymore. Sometimes he would have snatches of memory whenever his circuits tripped over trailing ends of fading connections. Sometimes he would remember beloved faces or hear a familiar voice, but otherwise he couldn’t remember. And yet, he was certain that whatever he was looking for was important.

But Optimus also had the sense that time running out, and so he only stopped to run his little scanner over hopeful items. It was the only thing he had control of beyond simple movement. Under normal circumstances, adults encouraged sparklets to play with their scanners, as the scans served as practice for when they were old enough to take their first forms.

_Tromp, tromp, tromp…_

The ground began to bounce him, and Oppy startled when the vibrations of heavy pedes approached him from behind. He stopped and rolled back and around, staring all around him. Then an immense shadow caught his attention. It was coming from the hall behind him, and he heard a deep voice call to him.

Then Oppy uttered a high-pitched “Meep!” when the huge frame of Megatron stepped out of the gloom of the distant hallway. Those impressive antlers oriented on him and the massive war machine began to head towards him.

There was something about the face, even though the expression wasn’t aggressive, and also the eyes; both the shape and the color. They were glowing red and that triggered all sorts of nervousness. Add in the timbre of the voice – even though he barely understood language anymore – and how the words were put together, and it reminded him of someone he should avoid at all costs.

Whirling around, Oppy scooted away at the highest rate of speed he could manage, leaving a trail of _nope-nope-nope_ in his wake.

 

***

“Optimus Prime?”

Megatron had just located Thundercracker and Skywarp’s newest hiding place when flash of movement caught his optic. Turning, he saw a glimmer of blue and red, and then the little escapee turned the corner.

“Hhm,” Megatron murmured.

Turning quickly, Megatron intended to follow, but nearly took out the lighting fixture with his tines in the process. With an irritated grunt for what felt like shoddy workmanship – what sort of imbecile had designed this ship with such short ceilings? – he shot the oppressively low ceiling a harsh glare.

The ceiling didn’t seem to think much of it, and stepping carefully, Megatron quietly circled around the next hallway, intending to intercept Optimus in the next room down. He knew better than to actively _chase_ the little sparkling; it might cement the idea that he was some sort of threat.

Which he was not.

After slipping into the room, Megatron took an off-center position that was partially obscured by the gloom. Then he stood stock still and waited.

Sure enough, the little Prime turned the corner and scooted inside. There was more scrap in this room then the others and it seemed to please the little sparklet. He was so intent on looking for something – he kept stopping and scanning little bits of random scrap – that he only focused on what was directly in front of him, never stopping to look up. He merely hurried from scrap piece to scrap piece, scanning everything he could.

It meant he didn’t see the bigger picture, even when it was standing right in front of him. Without movement to catch his attention, Oppy even hopped up on Megatron’s pede before he realized something was amiss.

“Peep?” said Oppy as he peered at the elegantly folded gears and gyros that comprised Megatron’s ankle joint. He inched closer, noted an old smear of red paint, and activated his scanner. He had never attempted to scan something so large, and amazingly his intrepid little scanner pulled it off. It accepted the scan and then set the recording into a backup file that would pop up when he was an adult, as an option for later (batchers would often save these early recordings in solid data disks with pictures of their sparkling and age stamps, as a memento).

“Beep!” said Oppy, so impressed with himself…

…and then Megatron shifted his weight. It was a natural movement, merely his frame adjusting almost automatically to remain upright, and was a motion almost too slight to notice.

But to Oppy, it felt as if the mountain had shifted and revealed to him that the platform he was currently on was _not_ a safe and stationary object. He peeped to himself in concern and began to edge back the way he’d came, and when he was back far enough to see further upwards, he was more than a little surprised.

“Hello,” Megatron said.

Megatron smiled down at the little one from on high, and once again stifled a laugh as the little Prime stuck both arm-nubs into his mouth for shock. The moment was precious, though he refrained from moving. He was aware that this was something of a crucial moment, and remained content with merely looking Optimus over, as previous glimpses hadn’t done his old enemy justice.

Optimus Prime was only a little past his first stage, and his audials were easily a fourth of his mass. His optics dominated his face, immense and bright. His arm nubs were still developing and perfectly tucked into his round little body. His lowest reaches were still roundish, serving to propel him on his way.

Leaning waaaaay back, Oppy peered up at the massive war machine towering over him, taller than the tallest mountain, or at least it felt that way. He focused on Megatron’s face and then the massive antlers. His optics widened immensely as he took stock of the situation.

Leaning back even further, Oppy offered a teeny “meep,” a single, solitary sound filled to the brim with concern. Then he lost his balance and fell backwards all the way, arm-nubs flailing, and when he landed his little gyros spun.

There was nothing for it.

Megatron simply couldn’t stop the resulting chuckle from escaping. It launched from his throat and bounced around the room, lightening the moment. Even worse, there may or may not have been the tiniest hint of a _wibble_ from his engine.

Maybe.

Either way, Megatron’s response was far from insidious or frightening. The smile on his face was genuine, and after righting himself with some difficulty, Optimus found his brave streak once again and didn’t flee. Taking a chance, he peeped a shy greeting up at the massive mechanical smiling down at him.

This wasn’t the first time Optimus Prime had buried his fears to take a leap of faith, holding out hope for the better nature of others, and it wouldn’t be the last. Sometimes that faith burned him, but this was not one of those times.

“Well then. Hello to you, too,” Megatron replied. He tilted his helm with a pleased air, and even managed a decently encouraging tone. He continued to speak to the little one, using the same tenors he would use to coax a berserking soldier back to the land of sanity. It was as close to gentle as he could manage.

Oppy blinked, unsure.

Huge blue optics tracked over Megatron’s face. The lines around the mouth and the intensity of the eyes were familiar in a concerning way, but everything else was so different. Finding nothing alarming, he finally settled himself, tucking his little arm-nubs back snug against his frame. His round little head perked to the side, audials re-orienting on Megatron.

That peaceful moment lasted up until the singular instant that Megatron bent over and tried to pick him up.

_Absolutely not!_

“Honk!” demanded Oppy, unwilling to let Megatron interfere with his important mission. He threw himself into reverse and promptly fell off the edge of Megatron’s pede with a startled “cheep!” and then whirled around as fast as he could manage. He bolted for cover, heading for an overturned table that was surrounded by broken crates, which were serving as chairs.

Megatron straightened with a frown, unsure what he’d done to anger the youngster. He didn’t give chase, at least not immediately. He remained where he was as he knew better than to rush after the sparkling, which would only undo the tentative trust the youngster had offered him.

Seeing Megatron wasn’t giving chase, Oppy perked up and relaxed a bit. Honking his little horn in warning, he was further gratified when Megatron took a step _back_. He was enormously pleased that the adult was respecting his wishes, and left his cover almost immediately, intent on returning to his search.

Oppy offered Megatron a parting “cheep!” as he rolled across the floor and out the door of the large main room.

“Yes, of course,” Megatron called after him, and his smile was back, still genuine.

Then, as patient as ever, he slowly followed after.

 

***

The next room looked much the same.

It was large and dark and gray and filled with cracks and rubble. The discarded rubbish here and there was of more interest; pieces of this and that, broken data pads and other interesting tidbits. But none matched what Optimus sought, and so after scanning them and seeing the negative blinking light, he turned with a disappointed “meep” and continued his epic journey.

Oppy was growing a little concerned. He felt like he should have found wherever he was looking for by now. He wasn’t sure what was wrong and, even worse, he was feeling a little tired. It was getting to the point where a nap was starting to sound pretty good. For a sparkling, that was preeeetty tired indeed.

It was all rather worrisome, and so when Oppy saw a splash of red at the bottom of a crack, he squeaked excitedly and _hurry-hurry-hurried_ over to investigate. He scooted over so fast he was almost leaning too far forward.

The crack wasn’t very deep at all, but it was unwieldy, and Optimus paused as he considered. His big optics whirred as his little helm tilted this way and that, trying to decide how best to reach the oh-so-interesting red thing.

_Tromp, tromp, tromp…_

Optimus froze when those heavy footsteps approached again. He turned and startled when in the distance, the purple and green adult with the massive tines stood framed in the doorway.

Then the adult said something to him, something he didn’t understand. The tone was questioning and – most importantly – still gruffly gentle, and so he didn’t immediately attempt to retreat.

There was a breath of wind in the otherwise stale room as the adult began to approach, which ruffled the red thing, unfurling it a little bit. The red markings were clearer now, and most familiar to him.

Was this what he was after?!

Oppy was becoming more and more certain that it was, and his optics narrowed and he responded to the approaching adult with a firm “Honk!” He looked down again at the red thing, which looked like a sad face etched in red, and became certain that it needed him. Or maybe he needed it?

Whichever it was, he wasn’t willing to part with it, and so little Oppy held his ground. Then, when the adult knelt down and tried to pick him up, Oppy went on the offensive, charging at and bonking the huge hand with his round little body.

“Honk!” Oppy demanded, laying down the law.

_My red thing!_

_Mine!_

 

***

“What do you have there?”

Ignoring the little display of aggression, Megatron carefully reached down and pulled the brightly colored scrap of material free, laying it out on the ground. Now that he could see it properly, he wished he hadn’t.

“Mhn,” and Megatron winced as he recognized the Decepticon propaganda poster, with the Autobot symbol in the middle. The words surrounding the enemy sigil were … well they weren’t tasteful in the slightest, and he was careful to refold the poster to hide them.

Optimus went from upset to hopeful to excited to delighted in the span of a moment when those great servos fell away, leaving the red thing for him to claim. He cheeped and circled the crumpled bit of material … but the red face wasn’t visible!

Megatron watched as Optimus scooted back and began to meep, becoming more and more upset. The little sparklet began to scoot around in circles, even making as if to hop back down into the crack, as if thinking the red face could be found down there, instead of all crumpled up.

“This is what you were looking for?” asked Megatron as he gathered up the material once more and stretched out the poster so that the Autobot symbol was prominently displayed, correctly guessing that Optimus could no longer read and so the propaganda parts of the poster didn’t really matter anymore.

Meanwhile, Optimus bravely mock-charged and beeped at him again – _I said my red thing, mine!_ – and then realized he could see the red face! It was even clearer than before, and once again he was beside himself with happiness.

Oppy cheeped and scooted forward, settling down on top of the Autobot sigil. He puffed out his plating and nestled like a chick in a nest, peeping contentedly to himself, so certain he had found what he was looking for.

“Did you find your happy ending?” and Megatron was smiling again, his aching spark warmed by Oppy’s fearless display, and most especially his sheer happiness.

For his part, Optimus was feeling very satisfied with himself. It had been an epic journey, filled with intrigue and dangers and daring-do, but he had reached the end, and was ready to enjoy his happily-ever-after.

Ahh, life was _so_ good.

Oppy closed his optics and relaxed completely. Then he re-opened them when he heard the adult kneel next to him. He didn’t startle this time, because this adult had proven himself an ally. Oh, there was an underlying sense of unease. If this mech was _silver_ with red optics, his reaction would be vastly different. But at this point in his regression, it helped enormously that this Megatron looked so strikingly different than any other version.

Optimus did stiffen a little when a powerful servo descended again, but this time he didn’t flee. Especially when that same servo slipped under the poster material and scooped him up, still nestled atop the red sigil of the Autobots.

Then Megatron’s powerful fingers curled around the resting sparklet himself, holding the little one inside his sigil-nest with careful fingers, just as he’d been aching to do the moment he laid eyes on Optimus.

Satisfied, Megatron turned on his heel while holding the youngster against his upper chest, under his neck. “Now that I have proven I will not harm you, shall we go for that walk?”

“Peep,” Optimus replied, poofing his plating out. He was very much ready for a nice, soothing walk. He nestled snugly against the warm plating of this mech that had, in another reality, been his direst enemy.

With that, Megatron turned and strode away. _Tromp, tromp, tromp_ went his pedes as he went for the promised walk, circling around the command center. His slow and steady gait was just the thing to settle excitable sparkling circuits.

In his hand, nestled warm against Megatron, the lulled Oppy peeped again.

It was a much calmer sound.

_Wibble._

***

 

Thundercracker ambushed Megatron not long after.

“Oh thank Primus,” Thundercracker said, slapping his hand to his chest for relief. He and Skywarp had just noticed the missing sparklet and had roared out in a panic to find him. Turning to look back over his shoulder, TC yelled down the hall, “Found him!”

_Wharp!_

“Whoooooooooo,” Skywarp replied. He saw that Megatron was holding the missing Oppy snug in a handful of soft material - one of those old propaganda posters which was so inappropriate as to be amusing - and then leaned against the wall as if recovering from a life-changing panic session. “I guess I’ll have to call the morgue and cancel my reservations.”

“You and me both,” Thundercracker muttered under his breath. He was certain Starscream would have murdered them outright. It would have been a messy way to go, filled with high-pitched shrieking and furious null-ray fire.

Thundercracker turned towards Megatron with an expectant look on his face. Then he hesitated as Megatron walked right past him, seemingly having no intention of handing Optimus back to his designated caretaker. With a concerned flick of his wings, he turned to follow after Megatron.

“…Sir?”

“We are still walking,” Megatron called back over his shoulder.

Skywarp caught Thundercracker’s concerned look and just shrugged. They both could hear the soft “pee-zzzz-pee-zzz” of Oppy’s contented snoozing. It was obvious that Antlered Leader had everything well in hand … literally. So maybe he should let sleeping sparklets sleep? And yet he knew what Starscream would say to that, and so he followed Megatron, waving at Skywarp to stay close in case a hasty retreat was needed.

Thundercracker was just about to call for Antlered Leader to wait when he stopped dead in his tracks, his hands reaching up towards his audial. With a wince, he tapped at himself and cancelled the open comm line. Both seekers shared a pointed look, and then they turned and hurried after Megatron. Catching up, they both took position at his sides, Thundercracker on his left and Skywarp on his right.

“Starscream is on his way back,” Thundercracker reported in a rush. “And the enemy Megatron demanded he keep an open line, so _that’s_ going to be fun.”

“Mhn,” Megatron said, coming to a stop and stroking his chin with a pensive frown. “I should have thought of that.”

“Starscream wouldn’t have agreed to an open comm line with you,” Thundercracker said, waving off Megatron’s self-criticism. Those doubts seemed to be uttered more and more frequently the weaker Antlered Leader became.

Megatron was about to say something but a sudden explosion of meeps inside Thundercracker’s cockpit gave him pause. He squinted to see dueling swirls of blue and purple; the two seekerlets were wrestling around again. They were back to arguing furiously over the cockpit chair, and it wasn’t that they couldn’t both fit together. It was just that Skywarp wouldn’t take turns and Thunders refused to share, and so there was simply no other option but to engage in a full on arm-nub-slapfight.

“Do they ever stop fighting?” and Megatron couldn’t hide his amusement, though he did cup his fingers around Oppy’s tiny helm, trying to shield him from all the frantic meepery. The adult’s voices didn’t seem to bother the sparklings or seekerlets, but the sounds of other protoforms certainly did.

Thundercracker shrugged, “Only when they recharge. I guess the cockpit seat is serious business. Oh, and I should take Optimus back now,” and he held out his servo.

“Really though, shouldn’t you do something about that?” said Megatron, and he still ignored the outstretched hand, inclining his helm towards the brouhaha in Thundercracker’s cockpit instead. His massive tines moved with him, and Thundercracker barely stifled an urge to duck.

“Oh, no, this is normal,” Thundercracker said, dropping his hand for the moment. He peered down at himself with a faint smile. “They _are_ brothers, after all.”

Megatron didn’t look convinced. “All the more reason to insist they treat each other well. I never had siblings.”

“They are seekerlets,” Thundercracker explained, “not soldiers. They are also brothers, and so they have to love each other no matter what.”

Skywarp nodded sagely. “It’s in the rules, right next to ‘never leak while flying’ or at least – and this part I added myself – wait until your buddy is downwind.”

“Sound advice,” Megatron said dryly.

Then Megatron's mouth twisted and he clutched at his chest as if in pain, but straightened an instant later, trying to act as if nothing had happened. These little attacks were happening off and on, and he was in dire need of true repairs that no one had the skill to provide him. Everyone had been in his place at some time or another, shouldering through bad situations when repairs weren't possible, and Skywarp shot him a sympathetic look, which he pretended not to see, because he was their great and powerful leader, and as such, was absolutely fine, _so don’t say anything._

At the same time, Thundercracker tapped at his cockpit glass. It was an interruption that the two wrestling seekerlets completely ignored. Currently, the determined little Thunders was winning the match, and so Thundercracker left the seekerlets to their battle.

Meanwhile, Oppy heard the seekerlets battling inside Thundercracker’s cockpit, and he chirped a greeting. There was a pause in the miniature battle royal, and then two answering cheeps made Oppy's huge audials perk forward.

Oppy cocked his helm, and rolled forward. He wanted to return to his playmates and began trying to work out the best way to get back into Thundercracker’s cockpit. He rolled back and forth, across the full span of Megatron’s hand and arm, but he couldn’t quite manage throwing himself off, as his survival instincts were too strong for that.

The floor was a long ways away!

Deciding that help was needed, Optimus straightened himself up as tall as he could – which was _still_ not very tall – and pointed one of his tiny arm-nubs at Thundercracker while directing his bestest, most commanding military-style “beep!” up at Megatron. He even gave a little hop to further express that he expected immediate compliance, and it _was_ pretty commanding, even considering the source.

Megatron stared, and his lips quirked. “I … am sorry, Optimus. I didn’t understand. Can you repeat that?”

Oppy fluffed himself up, complete with a dignified expression on his little face. Then he rolled forward an inch and repeated a firm, “ **Beep**!” It was the mightiest of mighty beeps that he owned, and having deployed it, he then relaxed and rolled back that same inch, certain now that he had been understood.

“Well,” Megatron said lightly, “When you put it like that…” and then he reluctantly handed the now bouncing Oppy to Thundercracker, who snapped open his cockpit with a _snick_.

Thundercracker hurried to place the youngster safely inside, but before he could put Oppy down, the little sparklet hopped off his outstretched servo with a high-pitched “squeak!” – and landed square on top of the battling seekerlets.

“Beep!” Oppy demanded. He was giving his mighty beeps a cracking good workout, though it was all to good effect.

“Beep?” little Thunders asked. Then he then pointed accusingly at ‘Warp, who dared look affronted. ‘Warp wasn’t taking _that_ sitting down, and his little wing-nubs flapped in sheer outrage at being blamed for everything and he pointed right back at Thunders, adding his own “Honk!” and then he kept pointing, _point-point-point_.

“ **Beep**!” Oppy demanded and this time he was seriously serious, which, measured end to end, amounted to _a lot of seriousness._ Chastised, both seekerlets stared at each other… and then sighed. They bonked helms together as brothers do, and then Oppy cuddled into the cockpit seat with Thunders while ‘Warp perched himself on the dashboard.

“See,” said Thundercracker, looking pleased. “They worked it out.”

Megatron watched Oppy’s little plates poof out again – just like a happy little bird – and this time he did stifle the chuckle. It was a near thing though, and he affixed the sternest frown he could across his face to help hide his reaction. Alas, he was not entirely successful.

_Wibble._

“Did you just” – and here Thundercracker looked at Megatron all awestruck – “what was _that_?”

Megatron snorted and looked away. “I’ve been having engine trouble lately. Surely something lethal, the sort of medical problem some might consider rude to bring up in polite conversation,” and then Megatron was back to looking offended, which seemed to be his default expression, at least lately.

“I have the same problem,” Skywarp confirmed, nodding solemnly. He would know. He’d been having an overabundance of engine noise of the _wibble_ variety lately. He admitted as much, and Thundercracker could only agree.

**WHAM!**

Everyone and their brass-knuckled auntie (Decepticon aunties were not to be trifled with) instantaneously trained every single weapon in the base in the direction of that wildly furious sound.

It was Starscream, back from the other base. He was standing in the entrance of the hidden (well, not so hidden at the moment) base, his foot still in the air from where he’d kicked the door open.

He was _not_ happy.


	8. In the House of Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Starscream makes his move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions of abuse, violence between adult robots. Cannon character death (NO dead sparklings! I am pretty evil but not that evil). Some minor teasing of sparklings, with no damage inflicted.

 

“I HATE HIM!” Starscream shrieked.

He kicked the nearest wall for good measure while stomping inside Antlered Leader’s sorry excuse for a base. There was a storm rising within him, many eons worth of pent-up rage, and seeing Megatron trash the slender Starscream was the _last fragging straw_.

Starscream continued to hurl insults while everyone – Megatron, Thundercracker, Skywarp, Demolisher, and Cyclonus – watched his theatrics with identical shocked looks.

Megatron was the first to recover. He glanced a warning around the room, using sign language to remind his soldiers to stick to their assigned song and dance, so as to create a lovely funeral dirge for their bitter rival. Their lives now hinged on how well they could deceive the enemy.

Thundercracker and Skywarp nodded back, ready to fulfill their parts of the deception. Also following strict orders, Cyclonus and Demolisher made a scene of zipping their lips; they had been ordered by Megatron to mute their vocalizers for the duration.

It was absolutely for the best.

Meanwhile, Starscream was still ranting. “I hate him and everything within his immediate vicinity! I hate his dumb face! I hate his stupid raspy voice! I hate his nasty teeth and weird eyes and–”

“I told you so,” said Skywarp cheerfully, talking over Starscream.

Skywarp had the easiest job, second to Cyclonus and Demolisher. He didn't have to mind his mouth much, beyond not revealing that he knew they were being listened to. He wouldn't be expected to be respectful to an enemy Megatron, and his chatter was mostly harmless anyway. He moseyed over towards his trine leader, who had escalated to taking out his rage on the pitiful crates that served as furniture.

_CRASH!_

Meanwhile, Thundercracker had placed his hands over his cockpit in an attempt to shield the sparklings from seeing Starscream in such a fantastic rage. He knew exactly what had set Starscream off, and chose to respect the moment. His wings were swept back as he watched the unfolding carnage, and his face grew downcast as Starscream attended to his own mental health. 

_SMASH!_

Starscream's tantrum looked violent, but it was the most cathartic way to vent in this hellhole of a dimensional prison. At the same time, Megatron glanced over at Cyclonus and pointed at the entrance, which was still open and silently mouthed, “Attend that.”

Still limping somewhat, Cyclonus hurried to obey. He lifted the door and fitted it back into its frame, only for the entire thing to fall over with a _whump_ and a cloud of dust. At a loss, Cyclonus looked over at Demolisher, who just shrugged.

_WHACK!_

Crossing his arms over his front, Megatron had already returned his attention to Starscream, waiting for some sort of cue. Everyone was under the assumption that Vicious Leader was aware and listening thanks to Starscream’s open comm-line, and so Antlered Leader remained cautious. He even went so far as to hide his amused smirk as Starscream continued his epic tantrum. It was rather difficult as the theatrics were very entertaining, especially for someone who had so deeply missed this screaming, pit-spawned glitch.

_CRAAACK!_

“Are you alright?” Thundercracker asked, feeling more and more concerned.

Thundercracker promptly ignored Skywarp's enthusiastic wing-flicks and attempts to wave off his concern, and followed after the raging Starscream, picking up and righting each crate as Starscream knocked them down. Behind him, Skywarp grabbed the righted crate, circled back around, and plopped it a few paces ahead of Starscream, so that he could kick it all over again.

Starscream didn’t pause in his ranting to answer TC and instead trashed his way around the room again, much to the dismay of the furniture. No one made any attempt to rein him in, which was unusual. Under normal circumstances, Megatron would have put an end to these sorts of tantrums before Starscream went all to pieces like this, and maybe it spoke to Antlered Leader’s physical and mental state that he merely stood by and watched.

Hell, Skywarp was even considering joining in until Thundercracker threatened to throttle him. Then, his rage finally spent, Starscream stomped on his last crate and stumbled back. He bent over and clapped his hands on his thighs, ventilating hard. His wings were at a higher cant though, because he felt better. It was true that sometimes mechs just needed to break things.

Starscream looked up to see Megatron watching him thoughtfully. Their optics met and locked, and Megatron tapped his helm and made an inquiring gesture using sign language. 'Is openly antagonizing our rival like this wise? You _do_ have to return to him, you know.'

“The bastard is muted,” Starscream finally explained, “or rather, I have him listening to a recycled audial recording of me walking down a hall … far from elegant, but very effective. We can talk openly, for now.”

“Good,” said Thundercracker, who was still frowning. “Now answer the question. Are you alright?”

“Yes, fine! It’s just … I really, really hate him. I can’t wait to see the look on his stupid face when I betray him.”

Surprisingly, Megatron merely nodded. “I agree. He _is_ most disagreeable, lacking in all redeeming values. I look forward to ending his miserable existence, preferably with my bare hands.”

Starscream opened his mouth sharply and then closed it, finding nothing in the statement to attack. As much as he longed to inflict some of this pain and rage back on its source, this particular Megatron was not a proper target, though it almost hurt to admit it to himself.

“Glad to have you back,” said Skywarp as Thundercracker replaced the last crate and joined him to stand at Starscream’s side.

Starscream’s optics softened for the honest greeting. Seeing them standing there with smiles on their faces made some of the tight feeling in his chest ease. It was like a breath of fresh air after choking on tank fumes. All in his mind, as there wasn’t a breath of fresh air to be found in the dimensional pocket, but still.

Then Starscream straightened and stretched his wings, getting right back to business. “I want to get this over with as soon as possible," he demanded, feeling the strain to get back home. There was a critical window of time when the Decepticons might be willing to turn on Glorious Leader and he knew that window was closing with every klik that passed. "Any particular reason why we can’t head straight back and commence with ending his wretched existence?”

Megatron seemed agreeable. “Of course–”

“So I can get back to my dimension,” Starscream added at the last second, still as contrary as ever, “and do the exact same thing, all over again?”

Thundercracker and Skywarp nodded in agreement and announced, “We have to rescue Starscream,” speaking both at the same time. They glanced at each other, then let the moment stand. They were committed to rescuing their brother, no matter the difficulty.

“What do you mean?” asked Megatron as he glanced over at Starscream curiously. He had not been privy to the open comm, and so had no idea there was even another Starscream present.

"Yeah, something really ... I don't know ... really gross is going on over there," Skywarp said, sharing another harsh look with his trine. The three seekers nodded amongst themselves, which only confused Megatron further and he demanded an explanation.

“There’s another Starscream here. He needs our help,” and Thundercracker explained the situation to an increasingly surprised, and then concerned Megatron. It was an odd turn of events, as Starscream was a capable warrior and could have easily turned the tide in the previous battle, had he been deployed properly. Megatron said as much, to Starscream's complete amazement. There was full agreement that the universe was a lesser place without some version of Starscream … and that two seekers without a third and one seeker without a trine was an equation with an obvious answer.

The consensus warmed Starscream's otherwise cold, calculating spark as Megatron beckoned the rest of the survivors over. Everyone joined the resulting huddle, and a solid plan began to form.

 

***

 

"Get ready," warned Starscream a short while later.

The impromptu meeting had just ended and now that everyone was on the same page, there was nothing to do but shoot for the sky, and Starscream reminded his fellow conspirators of that, adding, "We only get one shot at this. We frag up and we starve to death down here."

Ever quick to lighten the mood, Skywarp reached out for his brother's left wing. He grabbed the tip and tweaked it, making Thundercracker yelp in surprise and announced, "dibs on TC’s wings!"

Thundercracker snorted, everyone chuckled for the dark humor, and then Demolisher piped up, "you can feed me to the sparklings first" and everyone could tell he wasn't kidding and suddenly the joke wasn't so funny anymore.

Then Starscream re-opened the comm with Vicious Leader, ending the looped audial recording. He stomped around, and opened and closed the entrance to the base to indicate his long trek through the war world had ended…

 ... and then the real deception began.

<I am here, are you still listening?> Starscream asked over private comms, engaging his worst enemy, his own Megatron notwithstanding. _One thing at a time,_ Starscream reminded himself, forcing a razor-sharp focus on his enemy.

< **I never left,** > the vicious Megatron responded instantly. That powerful voice was too damned loud in Starscream's audials and he tried to turn down the volume, not that it helped in the slightest. < **Now get on with your task!** >

“Starscream. You have returned,” Antlered Leader greeted him, playing his role as soon-to-be-betrayed. “I was growing concerned you might have gone and done something _rash_.”

Starscream muttered something mean and then said louder, “Well, you were right about one thing. The fool let me into his base without as much as a second thought as soon as I promised to help him ... and here I was thinking Megatron’s stupidity was already peaked, and then he goes and surpasses himself. It's almost inspiring."

“I am choosing to overlook your double-edged insults,” Megatron announced harshly, calling out Starscream's derisive tone, “depending upon what you have retrieved from my rival’s base.” The sound of his denta grinding was just audible enough for Vicious Leader to make out, and hopefully that helped the encounter seem more realistic.

Starscream reared back and answered, “Yes I scouted his sorry base and I have the coordinates. Oh, and for the record, I hope you have been taking notes. His sense of fashion is far more tasteful!”

There was an amused rumble from Vicious Leader, who sounded to be enjoying the show. There were three levels of deception currently at play; what Megatron wanted to happen, what the other Megatron thought was happening, and what Starscream was actually planning (getting the hell out at the expense of any and all Megatrons, good intentions or not) and although such insults would normally have elicited a violent response, Vicious Leader seemed more amused than anything else.

 _So far, so good,_ thought Starscream.

“Well then,” and Megatron dropped his hands to his hips and his optics flashed as he chose his words carefully. “I take your continued _insolence_ to mean that you were successful in stealing the remains of the energy coil?”

Starscream allowed for a long pause – even throwing his arms out in a rather dramatic manner for the hell of it – and then exclaimed, “I couldn’t get to it!”

Optics bright with amusement, Megatron nevertheless kept to the script and snarled nosily. He stomped forward and punched the wall near Starscream, to which the still-furious seeker grudgingly pretended was a punch to the face. "Pathetic! You had one task, Starscream! And you couldn't even manage that!"

Starscream clattered nosily to the floor, while Cyclonus laughed uproariously in the background. Thundercracker and Skywarp dutifully hissed warnings at Starscream, which he completely ignored.

“Enough!” Starscream yelped.

Starscream rubbed his cheek loudly so that Vicious Leader could hear and come to the exact wrong conclusion; that Megatron had punished him for his loose mouth. "I've provided you more than you had before! And am I not the strongest of your warriors here?"

Megatron punched the wall again, snarling “Not strong _enough_ ,” and Starscream yelped, clattering around on the floor. It was a painful moment for him, embarrassing and all too real, but at the same time, this had to be as authentic as possible to work.

In the service of a lie, Starscream played his part, though he did shoot Megatron a warning look; _best not overdo the dramatics_. Such advice was rather amusing coming from such a fantastic drama-llama, though Megatron backed off as suggested, after another round of harsh commentary.

< **Heh, perhaps my overly adorned counterpart is not entirely without sense,** > Vicious Leader commented. In the background, the slender Starscream chuckled nervously. The audial feed cut out for a moment and when it came back, there was no longer any sound from him.

“I have the information you demanded,” said Starscream while ignoring the nasty commentary echoing in his audials, “But first I demand to see my trine, my _real_ trine!”

Megatron strode forward and nosily clamped his servo on Starscream's shoulder. He still looked amused, but to Vicious Leader, it all sounded rather ominous. “All in good time. I have kept my word, and your brothers remain my ‘honored guests’.  Now, tell me everything you have uncovered about my enemy.”

Starscream did so, making a show of giving Antlered Leader a completely false accounting of Vicious Leader's abilities, combat readiness, number of drones, along with an entirely incorrect set of coordinates.

Occasionally Vicious Leader would cut in to offer demands in the form of suggestions, while Starscream weaved a lie already exposed. The lies were thick and layering ever thicker, on both sides.

"I have much to consider," Antlered Leader announced when Starscream was finished, and began to weave his own deception, as filtered through Starscream's comm to Vicious Leader's eager audials.

"My soldiers are wounded and our energy reserves are all but gone,” Megatron lamented. “I have little choice but to strike soon, while we still have the strength to save ourselves."

Starscream sniffed and played his role to the hilt. "Do you honestly expect me to fight for you, after you took my trine hostage?"

"Do you want to escape, or don't you?" Antlered Leader replied, and took a noisy step forward. "I strongly suggest you keep your optic on the real objective here, Starscream, and that is to escape this place. It should be clear by now that I am your only real hope of survival, considering what a 'fool' my counterpart is, to use your own words."

Starscream grumbled something that sounded like surrender, and then made a show of complaining. “But I need to rest first, _with my trine_. It’s been mega-cycles,” and he made the demand sound rather much like whining, as this was critical to the next step of their plan, both the real one and the deception, giving both sides a chance to position themselves before springing the trap closed.

“Very well,” Megatron said, sounding frustrated. “A brief recharge cycle, as neither of us can go anywhere as of yet. Not until my soldiers have gathered our weapons and a plan of attack has been finalized.”

< **A perfect opportunity. I can send my drones to distract them, while you slip away with the energy coil. How soon can you steal what you need from their base?** > Vicious Leader’s voice sounded in Starscream’s audial like thunder, all but gleeful. He had especially liked the part about the sorry state of Antlered Leader's forces, and his own plan was already forming.

Starscream scowled and pointed at his helm. Antlered Leader nodded and didn’t pause, continuing to pile on the harsh observations about the state of his forces, peppered with threats and insults towards his rival. This allowed Starscream time to focus on and respond to Vicious Leader, using sign language to let everyone follow along with what the enemy was planning.

<I can slip away readily,> Starscream said into his comms, mouthing along with his internal response so Antlered Leader and the others could follow along with his side of things, somewhat. <These fools suspect nothing. I will return with what we need, and we can leave immediately, abandoning these simpletons to their fates.>

< **Good, excellent! For once in your sorry service it seems you will not disappoint me** -> and here Starscream scowled, knowing this round of insults was in response to his earlier statements. He knew better than to respond in kind. <- **will send some of my drones to harry them and direct _my_ Starscream prep the teleporter.** >

<Don't spare their frames,> Starscream advised, and his lips quirked as he found himself sharing a nasty grin with Antlered Leader. <Megatron will see through the hologram drones in a cold klik, to the point that bothering is entirely useless. He is too clever for such simple deceptions.>

The flattery was offered in the most hateful of tones, which coming from Starscream tended to mark them as more likely to be genuine, for the hope that they might please Vicious Leader and make the idea seem more palatable. It was also a critical part of their plan as facing down a small army of drones - no matter how depleted - would cause them no end of trouble. If they could convince Vicious Leader to divest himself of his standing army, all the better.

< **Leave the planning to me, Starscream. You don't have the processor for it,** > and Vicious Leader's tones were equally hateful, which gave no hint to his intentions. Starscream shook his helm mutely at Antlered Leader, who shared his disappointment.

Thundercracker looked away, his servo still covering his cockpit, protecting the tiny frames inside.

Next to him, Skywarp looked bored.

<Whatever,> Starscream snapped back at Vicious Leader, mumbling something about having a far greater grasp of strategy then certain silver tyrants, though he was careful to keep his tone quiet enough that Vicious Leader should overlook it. <Now, assuming you still insist on an open line, _I_ insist that you _shut the frag up_ so I can concentrate on my mission. >

< **I will do as I please and _you_ will watch your mouth, if you value it. You only leave this wretched hole at my pleasure, Starscream. Remember that.** >

Starscream ground his denta, but didn’t offer any further commentary or insults. It wouldn’t be long before he was facing Vicious Leader again. It was best to end this conversation on a high note... relatively speaking. That, and anything rude could and probably would be taken out on his slender counterpart, and Starscream found himself shying away from the thought.

“I take it you understand our situation,” said Megatron, finishing off an impressive motivational speech that Starscream had tuned out completely as uninteresting noise, exactly as intended. Satisfied with how things were going, Megatron leaned back on his heels and looked thoughtful.

“Perfectly,” Starscream answered, and nosily made as if to walk away, presumably to find his trine and begin a recharge cycle. In the background, Cyclonus and Demolisher had finished gathering all of their remaining weapons, and everyone was preparing to abandon the base. 

Skywarp spotted little Thunders trying to peek through Thundercracker's concealing fingers. 'Warp was doing something similar, though Oppy refused to give up his premium spot, and a new tussle was threatening to break out.

Really, keeping such energetic little sparklings in such a tiny space wasn’t for the best, though Starscream was doing his damndest to get back home as fast as possible.

Skywarp was grinning openly now, and mouthed ever so faintly, “Going off to rescue our new Starscream!” and began tapping Thundercracker’s cockpit glass, which excited the little squeakers inside into a squeaking squeaker horde.

Thundercracker smiled grimly as things were finally starting to look up. The deception seemed off to a good start, and everyone was following their scripts to the letter. Everyone, that is, except the mechs that had no real idea what was happening anymore.

With a happy squeak, ‘Warp pointed at Starscream, popped over to him with a _wharp_ , and then lifted both arm-nubs in victory.

_Flawless rescue!_

“Yep,” Skywarp mouthed silently with a grin, “exactly like that!”

< **What was that sound?!** >

Starscream nearly leapt out of his plating when Vicious Leader went from perfect silence to snarling over their private comm lines again. He had heard the little sparklet chirping, and recognized the sound.

Skywarp and Thundercracker froze, realizing what must have happened even as little ‘Warp continued his merry cheeping, ducking Starscream’s irritated attempts to grab and quiet him … yeah, how ‘bout no.

<Oh, didn’t I mention that? My Skywarp and Thundercracker had a little accident,> Starscream said, and as irritated as he was, he also knew that he had to bring it up eventually. <They are a bit younger as a result.>

< **You … can’t be serious.** >

<Not your problem, so don’t worry about it,> and Starscream meant that from the bottom of his spark. _Pay no attention to the little ones, you sadistic fragger._ He was particularly careful not to mention Optimus Prime.

Starscream knew that would be a terrible mistake.

Antlered Leader noticed, realized what was happening, and promptly called Starscream out for his odd reaction. “What is wrong with you?” he demanded suspiciously, just as he would under normal circumstances. Maintaining their deception was of utmost importance, and he had full confidence that Starscream would come up with an appropriate lie.

“Gears are acting up thanks to the beating Megatron gave me. He isn't nearly so ... _forgiving_ as you are,” Starscream replied, rubbing at his cheek again, and using the sulkiest tones possible. His lips quirked with bitterness he didn’t have to fake, even as he heard Vicious Leader laugh over their private line.

“You will have your revenge,” Antlered Leader assured him, and that too was something that didn’t have to be faked. “We will have a meeting immediately after your recharge cycle. By then I will have a plan of attack, and you will be a part of our glorious victory.”

In the meantime, Thundercracker walked over to Starscream, to return his little charges. "Here is your trine, safe as promised," he said as he opened his cockpit with a _snick_ , and reached inside. Skywarp grabbed past him, snatching up 'Warp, and then frowned when the tips of his fingers were wet.

Starscream blinked and looked down in distaste. None of the youngsters noticed, but only one had a tale-tell wet patch, which named the culprit.

“Optimus Prime’s hatch is wet,” Thundercracker remarked, checking the business end of the suddenly embarrassed little sparklet. "Bad sparkling," he gently admonished, "you are too old for accidents." The little sparkling was terribly confused, then looked down and realized the situation, and then promptly burst into squeaks and meeps as TC carefully wiped them both clean.

A full klik passed before Thundercracker realized what he’d said, even as Megatron, Skywarp, and Starscream reacted negatively... but the damage was already done.

< **What does he mean, Optimus Prime?!** > Vicious Leader demanded. His back was up because that name was always relevant to his interests, and now that his interest was piqued, Starscream knew he was in for it.

“Give him to me!” Starscream demanded almost hysterically at the same time, snatching the still meeping Oppy from Thundercracker and slipping him back into his cockpit.

<I have Optimus Prime in my custody, and he too suffered from the same accident,> Starscream explained. He pointed at his helm and made a motion of strangling Thundercracker, who was already apologizing profusely in wing-speak.

< **Why did you not mention this earlier!?** > Vicious Leader all but roared over the link.

<Because it’s none of your damned business. Prime is _my_ hostage and he is coming back with me so I can present him to _my_ Megatron and reap the rewards, > Starscream replied.

Starscream placed his hand unconsciously over his cockpit, where the sparkling in question was already recovering. The two seekerlets had been confused for Oppy's upset, and had buried him in snuggles until only his audials peeked out of the sparkling-pile, which always helped, and then Oppy was off and back to playing with the other two.

Vicious Leader didn’t agree. < **I am MEGATRON, and while you are here, you are _mine_ , and I will be taking custody of Optimus Prime for the duration!** >

<You need me just as much as I need you!> Starscream reminded him harshly. He took care to keep his voice as cold and unyielding as possible. This was something he _would not_ budge on, though for reasons far different than Starscream would ever admit to.

For his part, Antlered Leader wasn’t sure what was going on anymore. Just to be safe, he began filling the silence with words, launching into a speech about defeating long odds and how focused hate was hotter than blaster fire (yeah it totally isn’t but whatever) and how they were going to fall upon the enemy like a breaking tsunami of _blah blah blah_ –

In the meantime, Starscream held his ground and explained how things were going down, using the most Decepticon of ways possible.

<Consider that, not only am I presenting the defeated Optimus Prime to Mighty Megatron, but I am doing so while Prime is in the most _pathetically amusing_ state possible. I expect to be rewarded _handsomely_ for my service to the Decepticon Empire, and as such, Optimus Prime must be in _pristine condition_ so that my leader can fully enjoy the situation in whatever manner he deem fit. >

Vicious Leader couldn’t really argue with that, though he clearly wished to. He sputtered over the comm line, < **That may be …but I … want … oh, never mind! We will discuss this later. Now attend to your task!** >

<I will do as I damned well please,> Starscream snarled back, barely stifling a contemptuous snort. But Antlered Leader was still talking and he did need to pay attention, so he ended up following orders anyway.

“–soon victory will be ours, and freedom our reward,” and Megatron’s engine revved as he finished his customary rabble-rousing with a flourish. “My counterpart won’t know what hit him!”

< **Indeed!** > Vicious Leader agreed, and there was a dark anticipation within his voice. As far as he knew everything was going to plan.

 

***

 

Not long after, Starscream felt safe enough to mute Vicious Leader, and now it seemed everyone was saying their goodbyes in advance.

No one knew how the attack was going to end, but the Decepticons were nothing if not pragmatic. Starscream and the sparklets were unlikely to ever see any of the alternate dimension mechs again, as once Starscream gave the signal and the attack began, everything was likely to move very quickly.

And so just to be safe everyone was saying their goodbyes … and there were none so poignant, nor so silly, as the sad parting of Skywarp and his mini-me.

“Don’t forget me, okay?” Skywarp said with a sniff, rubbing at his optics. 'Warp teleported over to Skywarp, landing on his helm and then sliding down to his shoulder, the better to hug his face. He cheeped happily as Skywarp cuddled him close.

“How could he forget you?!” Starscream demanded, both hands lifting heavenwards in exasperation, “You two are the same exact person!” and it was clear that he was very unimpressed with the whole scene. Mushy goodbyes were not his thing, that was for certain.

“–I will think of you every time I look in a mirror,” Skywarp finished, sticking his tongue out at Starscream. Then he sniffed, and then grinned when he realized 'Warp was currently mimicking him, sticking his little tongue out too.

“At least you get a break from him,” Starscream gripped. “I may be stuck with him like this until he matures again!”

“That’s only six months or so,” Thundercracker pointed out. "There's a good chance that as soon as they are full size again, their mental connections will re-establish themselves, making them fully adult." He watched the hugfest in progress and was debating if it was either safe or desirable to actually attempt to hug Starscream, whom he'd missed dearly. He was also debating asking to hold the three youngsters one more time, but abstained when he saw Megatron approaching from down the hall.

“At least he doesn’t have any sort of _pet name_ for you or anything,” Skywarp said. His voice was smooth as glass as he glanced pointedly at Megatron, back at ‘Warp, over at Starscream, back to ‘Warp, and then pointed dramatically back at Starscream.

“Birb!”

Starscream froze, and his left optic twitched. “You did _not_ teach him to say that.”

But he absolutely had. And seeing Starscream's face was so, so worth it. “Birb! Birb! Birb-birb-birb-birb-birb-” the impressionable and utterly naughty seekerlet squeaked at the top of his vocalizer range, all the while pointing at the befuddled Starscream.

“I have no idea who taught him that,” Skywarp said, all innocent-like. He pointed at his little partner in crime and mouthed – _can you believe this guy?_ – while shaking his helm in disbelief. There was an actual halo of innocence floating over his helm; innocence pouring off his frame like a fountain of innocent innocence … had there ever been a seeker so innocent as Skywarp?

Surely not.

“That’s it,” and Starscream snapped his wings and powered up his null rays. “I have had enough!” A tiny _wharp_ later and little ‘Warp rematerialized on his helm. Two little arm-nubs doing their best to cover his face while 'Warp giggled hysterically. The world could be so much fun when you had no real idea what was going on or why.

“You, seeker, are in serious trouble,” Starscream said through gritted denta. He aimed the threat at both versions of Skywarp, though he knew it was all for naught. He wasn't actually going to shoot them no matter how much they deserved it, and as such there was nothing he could actually do about either of his trine mate’s antics. Skywarp already knew it, and alas, he suspected that ‘Warp knew it too.

For the love of Primus!

Didn’t they know how hard he was trying to keep sane?!

In the meantime, Megatron arrived into the main hall after helping Cyclonus and Demolisher finish barricading the back entrance. “How soon until the preparations are complete?” Megatron demanded, tuning out little ‘Warp.

"Another joor or so, sir," called Demolisher.

Megatron’s servos landed on his hips and his helm tilted to the side. He was mentally preparing for the battle to come, and his face was harsh like an approaching storm front. He completely ignored the perpetual amounts of silliness creeping in all around him, another consistent trait. No, he did _not_ notice the tiny seekerlet making silly faces at Skywarp, who was hiding behind some scrap and making faces right back.

No, Cyclonus and Demolisher were not setting down their tool-kits and weapons to join in.

The Moose wasn’t interested in silliness.

The Moose was _dignified_ , damn it.

So was the Birb.

Very dignified.

Instead, Starscream and Megatron – moose and birb – stood there, the very picture of dignity, just two stony-faced and scowling mechs struggling to have a serious conversation regarding final preparations and logistics and … and…

“ _What_ is he calling me?” and it was Megatron who broke first.

That was unusual, but then again he did have a silly cross-opticked seekerlet pointing and squeaking “beeoose! beeooooose!” at him, and it was very obvious now what the little one was actually saying, so perhaps Megatron could be forgiven the lapse.

“Just ignore him,” Starscream gritted out while peering up at the tiny frame that insisted on bouncing on his helm. “He likes your antlers and he wants you to know. Don’t bother addressing him. Audiences only encourage him.”

“Yes, I am well aware,” Megatron muttered, glancing up at his impressive head gear. Everyone loved the antlers. Even sparklings, apparently. He frowned at Skywarp, and then at the other two idiots he was saddled with.

Thankfully, Cyclonus and Demolisher caught the hint and clammed up, straightening their faces and spinal struts and side-eyeing each other. They grabbed for their weapons, checked their ammo, and then stood at attention, just two loyal soldiers about to embark on what might be their last marching orders.

Cyclonus whispered, “Do you think he noticed?”

“He’s not shooting at us,” Demolisher replied, while in the background, Thundercracker had his helm cradled in both hands while Skywarp was having some sort of hysteria-induced mental breakdown … or in other words, he was just having too much fun.

“I don’t understand how you haven’t been driven to madness, stuck here with all these mouth-breathing idiots,” said Starscream, crossing his arms back over his chest.

Megatron frowned, looking down at himself, over at Cyclonus and Demolisher, and then to Skywarp and Thundercracker. “To be honest, I am not so certain of my sanity anymore.”

“Join the club.”

At the same time, ‘Warp teleported back onto Skywarp's helm a moment later, and then back to Starscream, as if finally responding to instructions, only to teleport away again when Starscream reached up and grabbed at him.

“Beeoose! Beeoose!”

Starscream face-palmed for the millionth time. Then he considered just _leaving it there_ _permanently_ , but well, that just wouldn’t do, and so he started counting downwards from one thousand, his wings twitching for each number.

The only good news was that Oppy and Thunders were behaving themselves. They were snuggled together, all fluffed up with their bitty engines purring, sharing the cockpit seat like good little sparklings.

Starscream was grateful for at least that much reprieve. Even better, the seat was currently still dry, and he held on to hope he would make it back to his dimension before the next ‘accident’. My god babysitting was hard work, far worse than he could have ever imagined, though he _was_ getting pretty good at it, if he did say so himself.

“Beeoose! Beeoose! Beeoose! Beeoose-”

“It’s pronounced _moose_!” Skywarp cried dramatically, “Mooooooooose!” as in the excitement he forgot himself completely. Fortunately he teleported away just in time to avoid Megatron’s reprimanding backhand.

With crossed arms, Starscream offered Antlered Leader an approving grunt, the first in countless vorns. Thick fingers brushed his shoulder as if to offer a comradely clap, but Starscream reacted instantly. He slapped the hand away and strode off without another word.

 

*******

 

Megatron watched as Starscream storm away, his expression never changing.

He seemed unmoved as he headed back towards his quarters, but as those elegant wings turned the corner, he dropped the act. His shoulders slumped in defeat. He understood why Starscream no longer held any affection for him, though it still hurt to be rejected. 

It was to be expected, especially after all Starscream had suffered. After seeing that damned collection of recordings, he knew why Starscream refused his touch so utterly, even in the most basic of interactions. The entire thing had been appalling from start to finish, and he knew in his spark that his vile alternate hadn’t restricted himself to only mistreating Prime.

Starscream had endured cruelties no living being should, and it was his alternate’s fault. The surge of anger and sadness pulsing from his spark was confusing and all encompassing, and soon Megatron found himself standing before the torpedo casing that served as the final resting place of Optimus Prime.

“Let us be enemies in the next life,” Megatron had shouted across the engulfing void. His spark had filled with warmth as Optimus Prime smiled at him and they faced their end together.

And now he was stuck here, in this madhouse. “Don’t look at me like that,” Megatron muttered. He was feeling bad that he was walking away, while Optimus had truly sacrificed himself for their planet.

 _Survivor’s guilt? Not hardly,_ he told himself.

He wasn’t the sentimental type.

And yet, he didn’t turn his back. Instead, he laid his hand on the flat of the torpedo casing, and his helm dropped and his optics closed and he stood there with Optimus Prime for as long as he could.

Then Starscream called for him; everyone was ready.

It was time.

*******

 

That night, everything came to a head.

Starscream continued weaving his deception for Vicious Leader. After reporting that he was heading back with the stolen part, Starscream dumped Vicious Leader back into the cycling walk recording, freeing everyone from their careful silence.

In reality, everyone had already abandoned the base, as Antlered Leader was certain that at least some of Vicious Leader’s drone forces would be heading their way. As such, they barricaded every entrance they possibly could as they left, so as to slow the drones down. Everyone knew that as soon as Megatron’s drones forced their way inside and reported back that everyone was gone, the gig would be up.

 _It should be enough time,_ Starscream thought, tuning out Antlered Leader’s last minute rush of instructions and commands. Then it was a madcap race towards the war world’s core, avoiding the drone patrols thanks to Starscream’s skill at computer hacking and overall thievery.

It wasn’t long before they arrived at the safest spot to gather, as close to the other Megatron’s base as was feasible. It was here that they would wait for Starscream’s signal to attack, and commence the last battle. They would be triumphant tonight, or die, one way or another.

Off to the side, Megatron finished cauterizing the wounds that had opened during their march. As soon as his unpleasant task was complete, he strode forward in that slow, controlled pace that was consistent across every one of his iterations.

Cyclonus and Demolisher were handing out the last of their recharged weapons, and everyone took a blaster and several bladed weapons, including Megatron, who didn’t have enough energy left to use his massive cannon.

“It’s through there,” Starscream said, pointing at the hidden entrance. He provided Megatron the door code and added, “Don’t come in until I’ve had a chance to shut down their alarm systems.”

“We await here for your signal,” Megatron announced, and then added, “but don’t make me wait too long.”

Starscream nodded. “It won’t take me long to get the energy coil mounted to the teleporter. Should be an hour or less, easily.”

“You’re sure that pointy nutjob believed you?” Skywarp asked, looking skeptical. He had his own assigned task, and was preparing to warp into the enemy base to start taking out the drones, which he could do safely thanks to Starscream’s coordinates.

“Of course he does,” Starscream said with an arched brow-ridge. “I told him that everyone was recharging and that I was on my way back with the stolen energy coil. He is expecting me back within the hour.”

“You keep him distracted while we finish off his drones and pounce,” Skywarp said with a grin.

“Exactly. He shouldn’t suspect anything, once he sees I have kept my end of the bargain. He thinks our Megatron has been lulled into a false sense of security thanks to _my_ excellent acting skills.”

“Except he’s the one being lulled into a false sense of security,” Thundercracker said with a grin.

“Yes, and no,” Megatron replied, tilting his helm thoughtfully. “I would assume a roughly 50/50 chance of treachery from Starscream, and would apply countermeasures just in case.”

“My performance was exemplary,” Starscream snapped, though in his spark he knew Antlered Leader was correct. Things were never straightforward or easy with the leader of the Decepticons.

Thundercracker sighed and asked the question Starscream wouldn’t. “What sort of countermeasures?”

Megatron offered Thundercracker a thin smile. “I would have the energy coil in my possession at all times, with all my forces on full alert. I would be exceedingly wary, fully prepared for Starscream to make his move.”

“Which is why I am going back in,” Starscream repeated stiffly, “and showing him I do have the energy coil, which should set him at ease. In the meantime, while setting up the teleporter, I disable the security measures and unlock the front entrance.”

“I am _never_ at ease,” Megatron reminded with a faint smile.

“Whatever,” Starscream snapped. He lifted and dropped his wings with a _click_ to reinforce the sentiment, using a time-honored seeker gesture of disdain.

“Then – ready or not – I warp in and cause a distraction,” Skywarp said, confirming his part in the plan. His arms were crossed over his chest, and for once he was being serious. He might be playful during normal times, but when it came to scrapping, the dark hued seeker was all business.

“What about Megatron?” Cyclonus asked, sighting down the barrel of his blaster, while Demolisher yelped and ducked out of his line of sight. He'd learned the hard way to respect Cyclonus' lack of aim.

Megatron frowned. “Leave my counterpart to me.”

 

***

 

Starscream walked in to find Megatron waiting for him.

Vicious Leader was in a fine mood, which might be disarming to someone who didn't know him. It put Starscream on edge, especially when Megatron clapped him on the shoulder and Starscream couldn't feel his mood.

_No electromagnetic fields._

“I take it your mission was successful?”

“I have it here,” Starscream said in response to Megatron's demand. He tapped a finger to his left side to indicate his subspace, and scowled when Megatron held out his hand expectantly.

Starscream refused, or at least he tried to. But Megatron rounded on him, faster than he expected, and slammed him against the wall. The finger-blades of his right hand clenched around Starscream’s throat, the left hand poised over Starscream’s spark.

“No more games, Starscream,” Megatron hissed, his razor-teeth too close for comfort. "Today is the last and final night. Whether or not you come with me depends on your diligence to duty."

Starscream stiffened, but no further threats materialized, suggesting his deception was still in play. The fingers around his throat tightened, and he felt he had no choice, and so produced the remains of the original energy coil as promised.

Megatron grunted approval and snatched it, stepping back and away.

“You still need me to install it,” Starscream reminded him, though a tendril of unease was beginning to wind through his spark. At the same time, he activated a tiny program he’d installed in the base’s main computer, which unlocked the door and shut down the alarms.

 _Skywarp should be inside the base by now,_ and Starscream could only hope his trine mate was as good at silent murder as he was running his mouth. Speaking of noisy mouths… the sparklings were back to playing noisily again. Largely unaware of the danger, their joyful cheeps drifted out from inside Starscream’s cockpit and there was nothing he could do that wouldn't draw more attention to them, and so he clenched his jaw and forced himself to ignore them.

“Master?”

The slender Starscream stood nervously in the doorway leading to the makeshift science bay and inquired after the missing components. He wouldn’t meet Starscream’s concerned gaze. Long, razor-sharp fingers twisted at his sides, though he perked up when he heard the seekerlets quarreling.

Unfortunately, so did Megatron.

Megatron’s eerie optics flashed. He knew showing such interest was beneath him as there were far more important matters to attend, and yet when the moment was upon him, having a decent mock over his bitter rival’s predicament was too much of a temptation and he just couldn’t let it be.

Megatron could see the seekerlets chasing each other in circles down in the footrest below, and then a round little sparkling with oversized audials and huge blue optics hopped up on Starscream’s dash.

Owlish blue eyes peered at him through the cockpit glass. “It _is_ him! I would recognize those audials anywhere!” and Megatron leaned over Starscream, trying to get a better look. “What an amusing turn of events!”

Starscream frowned, for while the words exactly matched what Antlered Leader had said, the _tone_ was worlds apart.

Meanwhile, Megatron leaned in closer and his optics went wide. He would recognize that self-righteous little face anywhere, even in with Prime’s currently miniature state. His face curved into an incredulous expression, tempered with skepticism and a nasty excitement. His fingers curled with an eagerness to get his talons on his helpless little rival.

Starscream had seen _that_ look before.

This Megatron resembled Glorious Leader – and also a toothy sharkticon – far too much for his tastes, even without the obvious penchant for terrifying sparklings. Starscream didn’t used to care, but now he hated that look beyond all measure. Nothing like being on the receiving end of such depravity to give one a sense of perspective.

“Yes, it’s Prime,” Starscream said, “and _no_ , I am not forking him over.” Snapping his wings, he straightened and added, “I’m not calming him down after you scare the living scrap out of him.”

Megatron laughed.

It wasn’t a _nice_ sound by any means, and inside Starscream’s cockpit, Optimus watched the tense adults with concern. Something wasn’t right, and he peeped curiously, the little sound drifting wide, right to Megatron’s audials, farther piquing his interest.

That laugh made Starscream’s hackles rise, or it would if he had any. “Don’t we have better things to deal with?” and he found himself regretting bringing the sparklings with him, even though he had little choice in the matter. This was the end of the road, and there was no safer place then in Starscream’s cockpit, in his own estimation. The next statement from Megatron seemed to confirm that he was right.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Hand Optimus Prime over! I will hold him while you complete your work,” and Megatron gestured towards the hallway behind him, the one leading to the teleporter beyond. But there was something in his optics, a malevolence that boded ill.

Starscream put his pede straight down. “Absolutely not,” he snarled at the silver monstrosity and his nasty expression. “Really now, are you _seriously_ going to even _think_ about being an unholy aft to a fragging sparkling?!”

Never mind Starscream would have merrily abandoned this same sparkling, if not for his little trine mates. That was ancient history, an entire day or so ago. Things were different now, and he stayed wary.

 _Don’t make me defend myself,_ was the threat in Starscream’s optics, but Megatron merely scoffed. Megatron didn’t turn his back, but otherwise didn’t seem to take that threat very seriously.

Now that Starscream was back in this house of monsters, standing toe-to-toe with the silver devil himself, Starscream was beginning to have doubts. He found himself worrying for the others and had to remind himself that none of them actually mattered. Nor did the outcome of their impending attack. All that mattered was slapping the energy coil back together and programing his desired coordinates, and getting the hell out of here.

Thankfully Megatron appeared to regain his senses.

He stepped away and headed for the door, seeming to abandon his demand for Optimus Prime for more important concerns. Turning back, he gestured impatiently towards the lab and said, “Shall we? I think it is well past time we are on our way, don’t you?”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Starscream replied. His wings were held stiff and high as he followed. He didn’t like the way the slender Starscream was avoiding him, and he especially didn’t like the way Megatron was keeping a close optic on him.

Especially when Megatron stepped to the side as Starscream strode past, and then smashed into Starscream without warning, throwing him into the wall. One sharp punch to the helm and Starscream crumpled to the floor, knocked out cold.

Megatron chuckled and threw the remains of the energy coil at the slender Starscream, who caught the device with ease.

“I would have thought he’d be more cautious,” Starscream said with a smirk. “You would think it was obvious we weren’t going to waste energon teleporting anyone else.” His voice seemed cold, though there was a shadow lurking in his eyes, belaying his callous words. He wasn’t happy with any of this, but knew better than to stick his neck out for others.

“You have what you need,” Megatron said, waving the slender Starscream off. “You promised me you could complete his work, after stealing his schematic. You best not disappoint me again.”

“What about the seekerlets,” asked Starscream, and his fingers were twisting again. “With all of my long years of service, surely you would consider relinquishing them to me … for safekeeping?”

“Get to work,” Megatron snarled, and if he had considered leaving the sparklings to their fates, the fact that Starscream seemed to care changed that plan. His bladed fingers were poised over Starscream’s cockpit like daggers. “I merely want a closer look at these three before I finish _all_ of these nuisances off.”

“But my trine–”

“Obey my command,” snapped Megatron, his optics harsh with warning. He could see the anguish his orders caused, and it pleased him. At his pedes, a tiny light went off in Starscream’s cockpit – the signal for Antlered Leader’s team had triggered automatically after half an hour had passed – which went entirely unnoticed for the unfolding drama of the moment.

Still standing in the doorway, the slender Starscream was facing down the worst possible nightmare. His fingers were twisting into knots now, and he actually took a step forward, further into the room. He tensed himself and seemed about to do more than merely plead, but darted from the room when Megatron roared a vulgarity at him.

Pleased with the outcome of his deception, Megatron looked down with a satisfied smile. He reached down and poked through Starscream’s cockpit glass with his fingers, tearing it off. The dark energon was pulsing through his frame, and the coming violence excited him. He was just about to eviscerate Starscream, only to pause when three shocked little faces peered up at the silver tyrant.

Oh right, the sparklings.

Little Thunders meeped in horror, Oppy honked in outrage, and ‘Warp grabbed the both of them and with a _wharp_ , teleported them across the room to relative safety. All three sparklings darted under the nearest table, a long unit that was bolted to the wall, and covered with scrap.

It was a semi-decent shelter, all things considered, especially when Megatron refrained from chasing them down. First things first, and that was making sure the Starscream at his pedes was no longer a danger to his plans. Leaving Starscream functional enough to recover would be foolish, and though Megatron could be called many terrible things, a fool was not normally on that list.

Megatron was returning his attention to his grim task when the _click-click-click_ of his Starscream’s elegant heels sounded from the doorway. “Didn’t I give you an order,” Megatron rasped, not even bothering to look over his shoulder. His disrespect was as blatant as his back plates were broad, as he left his plates exposed, even in the face of clear disobedience.

“Master,” the slender Starscream said, his optics wide but his blaster clenched tightly in his fingers. “Hand over my trine, please.”

“Oh please,” and Megatron still didn’t bother to face him. “You and I both know you don’t have the spinal strut to pull that trigger, Starscream.” But a blaster shot over his helm suggested differently. With a long-suffering sigh and a dismissive roll of his optics, Megatron waved Starscream over, pointing at the seekerlets huddling under the far table.

“If you insist.”

“I do,” the slender Starscream replied.

Then the slender Starscream hurried forward, and was wise enough to keep his blaster trained on Megatron, but was so intent on saving Skywarp and Thundercracker that he didn’t keep the distance he should have. And once again, for the second time that night, Megatron’s long reach and surprise attack ruined the day’s plans.

Kicking the slender Starscream to the side to deal with later, Megatron noted the time and decided to give up on using his fingers. Instead he extended his wrist-blade and prepared to stab Starscream through the spark, only to pull up short as a fantastically mighty beep sounded from across the room.

Megatron’s expression was sheer amazement as a tiny sparklet, blue and red with vastly oversized audials, leaving a trail of wet behind him, came charging towards Megatron with his arm-nubs up and at the ready, as if he wasn’t the merest fraction of Megatron’s size.

“ **Beep**!” and along with that mighty beep, Optimus Prime performed a mighty arm-nub attack. It …was not very effective.

Though perhaps it depended on one’s definition of effective, because Starscream was still alive, and Megatron _was_ overcome; overcome with laughter. He was doubled over, his frame shaking and his voice bellowing through the base, tears of mirth dripping down his face.

Then Megatron reached down and rolled the tiny Prime like a puppy, giving his audial a playful little tweak that sent the sparkling rolling away with high-pitched squeaks of sheerest defiance.

“ **Beep**!” and Optimus Prime came rolling right back, his mighty beeps and his apparently less-then-mighty (but still really determined!) arm-nubs at the ready, prepared to defend his care-taker with his little life. His rally cry was heard far and wide (all the way across the room, even) and Thunders and ‘Warp heard the call.

Inspired, the seekerlets sounded their own high-pitched war cries, and began rolling out too. There was never a braver moment, not before, and not since. They charged towards the flabbergasted Megatron, who was still recovering from the mighty beeps.

“Oh,” Megatron gasped, surveyed his victories piled around him while wiping at his optics so he could even see, “I actually _needed_ that. This has been one hell of a vorn.”

“You’re telling me,” Starscream remarked from near his pede, and Megatron had just enough time to rear back as Starscream gave him an obscene gesture and pulled the trigger on his null ray, now pointed upwards.

Megatron was heavily armored from the front and back, and even from the top down. But what was left exposed was his tailpipe, which was at a perfect angle for a blaster shot, as viewed from Starscream’s position; still sprawled over the floor.

Starscream didn’t miss, much to Megatron’s _intense_ discomfort.

Taking advantage of the momentary reprieve, Starscream began crawling away as Megatron was distracted with a serious, possibly life-altering burning sensation in one of his most sensitive areas.

Endless vorns in the future, looking back across a lifetime of achievements as an elderly mech, it was this moment that stood out to Starscream as his greatest regret; that he didn’t snap a vid-still of Megatron stuffing the business end of an old fire extinguisher up his own afthole, to put out a raging fire in the most unique and unorthodox of ways. Though to be fair, he only missed the opportunity because his helm was throbbing and he was crawling away as fast as he could crawl.

“Is there a _problem_ , master?” sneered the slender Starscream, who staggered to his pedes and reached for his blaster. But then his vision cleared, to reveal the most awkward and delicious scenario he could never have envisioned in his wildest imaginings, and he did manage a few decent vid-stills.

_Wharp!_

Skywarp appeared a moment later, having finished his assigned task. He was ahead of the rest of the team, and it was just as well. Catching sight of his secondary target, Skywarp called a happy greeting to his long lost trine mate. And then the slender Starscream took _yet another_ lovely hit to the helm, on account that neither Skywarp nor Thundercracker were willing to risk any last minute shenanigans, though Skywarp was sweet enough to catch Starscream before he dented his nifty little red chevron.

“I got Starscream!” Skywarp shouted triumphantly down the hallway at Thundercracker, who was leading the calvery charge while the weaker Cyclonus and Demolisher followed behind, firing over his shoulder to provide cover.

Which was good, because the few drones that had survived Skywarp’s sneaky murder-fest were heading their way, and though the drone army was far diminished in number, they were still going to be a problem.

“Skywarp, Thunders, Optimus,” Starscream shouted, and then winced when he realized his cockpit was a mess. “Stay close to me!” His sparklets beeped, peeped, and squeaked as they left the cover of the surrounding furniture to roll towards Starscream, who scooped them up one by one.

“Nice going little buddy!” Skywarp called after his mini-self as he sent a hail of blaster fire down the nearest hallway for the drones to admire, and he was gratified when several hit the deck, and the ones behind them promptly tripped over them.

It was all fun and games until Vicious Leader was recovered enough to respond with the intense violence he was known for. His internal weaponry was now off-line thanks to the effect of the “null” part of Starscream’s signature weapon, but there was nothing wrong with his fists.

Thankfully, it was around that point that Antlered Leader arrived on the scene. He shot at Megatron with his blaster, and though that barely slowed the monster down, the clash of their heavy bodies certainly did.

“Starscream, get that teleporter functional,” Antlered Leader roared, trading blows with his enraged rival. He was in such a terrible state that there was a good chance he wasn’t going to win this fight.

Realizing the odds weren’t in their favor, Starscream charged for the lab door with his sparklets in hand, and did just that.

 

***

 

“Stay close,” Starscream ordered, and the sparklets obeyed him, watching as he feverishly slapped the energy coil together.

All except for Optimus, who rolled until he was perched on the edge of the lab counter, drawn to the sounds of nearby battle. He began honking, concerned for how badly Antlered Leader was fairing, though his worried calls were lost in the _screel_ of clashing metal fists and the roar of blaster fire.

Out in the hallway, Antlered Leader and Vicious leader were pummeling each other to scrap while Thundercracker and Skywarp defended the main entrance to the lab, and Cyclonus and Demolisher defended the back entrance.

“I am reprogramming the teleporter with both of our dimensional coordinates,” Starscream shouted over the din. “My universe first, then yours! I don't think we will have much time! Our energon reserves are too low, so don't waste any time!”

“Just hurry!” cried Thundercracker as he hoisted the slender Starscream over his shoulder, preparing to make a run for it. “Megatron can’t last much longer!”

Starscream didn’t need to be told twice. He tapped the last key and watched as the teleporter coughed, moaned, and then began to tear the very fabric of reality asunder. Outside, the fighting was getting downright desperate when the life-saving teleporter hummed to life, and the first of the two subsequent portal apertures shimmered into existence.

“Five seconds per portal!” Starscream shrieked out the horrifying readout while pointing at the shimmering aperture that was just beginning to solidify, “That’s all the energy we have left!”

Thanks to the shrillness of his voice, absolutely everyone heard him, especially Vicious Leader, who roared denial and broke away from Antlered Leader, charging towards the portal. He was intent on escaping, even if that meant to the wrong dimension, as the alternative was death. Starscream had no way to stop him, not really, even though that meant he would have _two_ monster-tyrants in his reality, which was two Megatrons too many.

5 seconds…

Starscream shrieked his own denials – “no! no! no! no!” – even as he grabbed ‘Warp and Thunders and Oppy and held them to his chest and powered on his thrusters, tearing towards the portal.

4 seconds…

And then Megatron, vicious monster that he was, body slammed Starscream as he flew past, tripping him up and sending the sparklings scattering in all directions. His triumphant laugh was cut short by Antlered Leader, who barreled into him from the side.

3 seconds…

Little ‘Warp teleported right back onto Starscream’s shoulder, even as Oppy landed a little too far to Starscream’s right, and little Thunders a little too far to Starscream’s left.

2 seconds…

“Skywarp, fetch!” Starscream shrieked as he fired his thrusters a little to the left, snatching up Thunders, and then heading straight for the portal. He actually meant for ‘Warp to fetch Oppy, though both versions of Skywarp knew exactly who he was referring to.

1 second…

Alas, both Skywarps tried to obey, and activated their warp drive for the same exact space, trying to reach Oppy at the same exact time. There was a _whharooop_ sound, and a miniature energy burst, and both ‘Warp and Skywarp went tumbling in opposite directions.

Skywarp bounced off the nearest wall, whacking his helm but good. Still, he was a hardened soldier and he powered through his pain, pulling off a double warp in one second flat; snatching little ‘Warp out of the air and sending him hurtling to Starscream right as the portal faded.

The last thing Skywarp saw of Starscream of Universe G1 was his simultaneously relieved and horrified expression when ‘Warp bonked into Starscream's chest, was enveloped by Starscream's arms, little Thunders hugging 'Warp ... and the three of them crossing safely on through, arriving back to their universe.

“Beep?” said Oppy, still on the floor where he’d fallen.

Optimus tilted his helm in confusion, looking this way and that, trying to figure how where his caretaker had disappeared to. He knew something important had just happened, but he wasn’t sure what or why. Then he startled and rolled away, back under the nearest table as the battling Megatrons thrashed and writhed over the floor.

His warp engine momentarily stalled, his helm swimming, Skywarp gasped and gasped, both relieved that the three had made it, and saddened that Oppy hadn’t and _won’t somebody turn off that train whistle?_

“Th-Thun-nders” Skywarp moaned, pointing a finger at the little blue and red sparkling who was now hiding under the nearest table, and then fainted dead away.

 

*******

 

Antlered Leader refused to let go.

“Release me you fool,” Vicious Leader snarled over his shoulder at the massive hulk that was clamped around him, wrestling with him to the point that they were both too hampered to move. “There is no sense in both of us dying! Release me and I will go through in your place, and take care of your men!”

“You aren’t fit to mind a turbo-hound,” Antlered Leader hissed right back, continuing to clench his arms around his thrashing, raving counterpart. And yet he knew his rival’s assessment of his prospects for survival was dead on. He _was_ all but finished, and yet he still had a task to do.

Then the second portal shimmered into existence and at first it was fitful and flickering. Then it solidified into a field of bright and luminous green, and the countdown started again the instant the portal stabilized.

5 seconds…

“Get everyone through the portal,” Antlered Leader snarled, holding on for dear life as Vicious Leader thrashed and screamed for rage. “I will hold this bastard off and follow you through right after!”

“But sir!” Demolisher cried, wanting to argue that there just wasn’t time.

4 seconds…

Demolisher was entirely correct, but that wasn’t the point, and he fell silent as the truth dawned; Megatron was not coming back with them. He was lying so they would leave, and for Demolisher the moment hung. They had both lost so much energon that everything seemed hazy and unreal, and Demolisher stumbled forward and actually tried to hug his leader, mumbling soft, snuffling goodbyes.

Then Cyclonus grabbed Demolisher by the arm and hefted him up. Carrying his bestest-best friend over his shoulder like a sack of bolts, the crazy copter-former followed orders and staggered through the shimmering portal to safety.

3 seconds…

Thundercracker also hesitated, dragging an unconscious Skywarp and a woozy Starscream by one arm each. For a split second he actually contemplated going back for Megatron, but there just wasn’t time and they both knew it.

“Go!” Antlered Leader roared, even as Vicious Leader bucked himself free and then kicked his rival right through a wall. Antlered Leader's frame went loose, his helm lulling as his optics went dark.

2 seconds…

There was not enough time in all the universe and with a soft keen Thundercracker turned and dragged Skywarp and Starscream with him through the portal, disappearing amidst its shimmering green light, the three of them arriving safety back into universe Armada.

“Beep?” asked Oppy, a few seconds too late. Thundercracker hadn’t seen what had befallen the little sparkling, and now TC was gone.

1 second…

Vicious Leader kicked Antlered Leader just to be sure and then whirled, but his cruelty cost him dearly. His bladed fingers splayed in horror as the last portal winked out, taking with it all hope for escape.

Even worse, at the last instant, Vicious Leader saw his slender Starscream’s woozy face, his lovely body and lovelier wings pulled to safety by his restored and loving trine, all while the saddened but triumphant Thundercracker flashed him a fierce grin and an obscene wing-gesture.

_“No!”_

 

*******

 

Oppy was hiding under the furthest lab table.

He was confused and unsure, and kept rolling back and forth on his round little gluteal to comfort himself. His instincts were sending him in two opposite directions; he wanted to call for help, but he was also sure calling for help was a terrible idea and that he shouldn't do it. He compromised and peeped softly, still calling but being as quiet about it as possible.

His optics widened when movement caught his attention. He peeped in surprise when Megatron stooped down, staring under the table until spotting him, and the table was lifted up and away. He looked up, his little audials perking up to orient on Megatron standing over him, glaring down from on high. Then heavy pedes landed on either side of his tiny frame, bouncing him a little.

Megatron’s shark’s-teeth were coated with internal fluid – evidence of his serious internal injuries – but his stance was otherwise solid. Worse, his optics were as cold as the pit. The purple gleam of them would ensure that if there was a better mech smothered inside, he would not emerge in time to stop the heinousness planned.

“Hello, Optimus,” Megatron rasped, leaning over the tiny frame until Optimus was just microns from his harsh face. “At least I will have _you_ for company, my old enemy.”

For his part, Optimus was not pleased in the slightest. Somehow, he knew this mech. He couldn’t remember names or places or details, or anything, really. But he knew down to his deepest places that this mech was bad, and bad mechs needed trouncing. Amidst one of his firmest of firm frowns, Oppy’s teeny arm-nub lashed out and whacked Megatron right in his nasal sensor, followed by a teeny helm-butt.

If Megatron hadn’t seen it happen, he wouldn't have even noticed, and his lips quirked. “Oh, I could have such fun with this.”

There was a _screel_ of metal on metal from behind. “Oh, I think not,” Antlered Leader announced grandly as he kicked his shark-toothed counterpart in the aft, sending him tumbling past the tiny sparklet. “You are finished, just as I am. Now have the decency to lay down and _die_.”

"Peep!" said Optimus, greeting his caretaker while bouncing up and down for happiness.

Megatron smiled, though he had certainly seen better days. His frame was a battered mess and one of his antlers was chipped. He was dripping a steady stream of internal fluid from his chest wound, which he ignored as unimportant. What was important was defeating his enemy ... or defending his enemy? Bah, life was too confusing right now, and so he went with what his spark wanted. He cupped little Oppy and lifted him up and looked him over, pulling him close.

Stumbling for the kick, Vicious Leader whirled in shock, baring sharp teeth.

No one kicked Megatron in the aft!

Antlered Leader just grinned back at him, his lips curving into a mocking sneer. At the same time, he carefully placed Oppy within his chest plates. His tank cockpit was just large enough to shelter the little sparkling. Protective seatbelts secured Optimus into the seat, just as Vicious Leader charged.

They were perfectly matched.

Both were lethally injured, both determined, both furious. But there was one critical difference between them; Antlered Leader had a reason to keep fighting well beyond the bitter end.

" **Beep**!" commanded Oppy, bouncing excitedly in Megatron’s cockpit chair. He was absolutely certain this silver mech was a bad guy, and bad guys needed a trouncing, and the Prime was _there_.

"Indeed," laughed Antlered Leader, and then the battle was on.

 

*******

 

Starscream was gone.

Antlered Leader wasn’t sure how he felt about missing his chance to say goodbye, and perhaps stealing a parting kiss. It was shameful how much he’d missed his pit-spawned glitch. Ah well, it didn’t really matter now. His life fluids were draining from him in the aftermath of his final battle, and no mere medical kit was going to fix this.

His counterpart and final opponent was already stone cold dead, but defeating him had cost Megatron everything. It had been an intense and worthy battle, and he felt no anguish for it. Best of all, his soldiers were saved, returned to their proper dimensions, and they had him to thank for saving them.

It was all very … satisfying.

“That leaves only you, little one,” Megatron said to Oppy, who was nestled in the hollow of his neck. He was careful to keep the little sparklet high up near his face, tucked snug and safe and out of sight of the worst of his wounds, both his and his dead opponent’s.

Oppy tilted his helm and peeped. Then he watched curiously as Megatron opened the teleportation device and snapped several of the wires loose; the ones that attached to the spent energy coil.

Then Megatron opened his own chest compartment. Without hesitation, he twisted the wires around his own energy conduits. “It is fortunate that you are so small,” Megatron murmured, “so that this should work.”

Oppy tilted his helm and squeaked in confusion, but Megatron didn’t bother to explain. He merely tapped at the console and plugged in the coordinates pilfered from Starscream’s schematics.

With luck, his last gambit would send little Oppy to the source of the quantum malfunctions; to the Autobot ship called the _Lost Light_ , and hopefully that would mean rescue. It was a long shot, but it was all Megatron could offer the youngster, as remaining in the dimensional pocket would mean certain death.

“This is it then,” Megatron said, and then frowned. “This is the second time I have had to bid you farewell.”

“Peep,” Oppy replied, and snuggled closer.

With no one around to judge, Megatron gave in to his softer instincts. He kissed Oppy’s round little face and smiled when the little frame squeaked in surprise. Then Oppy closed his optics and then fluffed himself like a happy little bird, snuggling into his face.

With one last long look, Megatron murmured the last few lines of an ancient poem - one that invoked good fortunes - and tapped the panel that was Oppy’s last hope for survival. The device surged, and the lines connecting to his heavy frame glowed ominously.

Megatron clutched at the control panel, and his optics went wide for the shock to his systems, but he didn’t break the connection. The teleportation device drained him almost completely, even to his innermost energon. His spark pulsed painfully as his frame began to suck the last dregs of energy. With a strangled gasp, he allowed the device to complete its task, and in doing so gave up the last few hours of his life.

It took everything in him, but Megatron hid his pain, and even managed a smile as he set Oppy down and coaxed him towards the shimmering portal, now so small as to only barely let the youngster pass through.

“Peep?” asked Oppy, who turned expectantly at Megatron, holding up his arm-nub as if expecting them both to walk through together.

Megatron’s smile widened, and he gestured at the portal. “You first, to make sure it is safe, and then I shall follow after.”

Suddenly feeling ten times taller, Oppy poofed himself up, a bot on a mission. With a commanding “beep!” he hurried through, intending to clear the way.

It was a lie … one last great deception. It felt rather fitting, at least to Megatron’s failing circuitry. He watched as the little sparklet's adorable backside wholly disappeared, hopefully to safety. Then the power cut out almost instantly, as teleporting the little frame had taken every last dredge of energy available.

Knocked offline, Megatron was plunged into immediate darkness, his energy levels so depleted that his biolighting was almost none-existent.

 

***

 

Standing on a mountainside back on Earth, Starscream found himself truly appreciating the dirty organic world for the first time in his life. It was filled with life and held the promise of new tomorrows, and best of all, now he could get back to the critically important task of murdering the hell out of Megatron.

Starscream sucked in a deep inhalation and blasted the fresh mountain air through his ventilation systems, then opened his cockpit to let his trine mates fill their vents with fresh air. Happy cheeps rewarded his efforts, and he couldn't help but share their enthusiasm. After the staleness of the dimensional pocket, the moist air of Earth smelled like the sweetest ambrosia.

“Much better,” said Starscream as he dropped his fists to his hips, cutting a triumphant pose. There was a stiff breeze in the air and the pine trees were swaying. The whisper of shifting leaves and the rustle of wind-swept grass filled his audials. High above, the blue sky looked inviting.

“Meep!” Skywarp agreed, and then pushed Thunders off the console again.

“Don’t worry,” Starscream said, combing over the various Cybertronian signals blanketing the planet. “Seems like the Autobots have already returned their soldiers to their normal adult states. It won’t be long until Soundwave steals the cure from their data banks.”

“Optimus Prime could never keep us out of his ridiculous excuse for a base,” Starscream laughed, and then sobered. The accessibility of the Ark to Decepticon spies was no longer Optimus Prime’s problem, what with being lost in the inter-dimensional void.

Starscream felt a pang of melancholy for the lost sparkling. He’d hated the adult, but the sparkling had been painfully adorable, and Starscream had tried to save him, he really had. He had given his all and done his best, but there was nothing to be done now.

Oppy was gone, and that was that.

Starscream had already processed the loss as acceptable collateral damage, but as he prepared to take off, little Thunders and ‘Warp began squeaking frantically, and Starscream blinked down at the little faces peering up at him from his cockpit.

“What now?”

The two seekerlets cheeped and pointed around, and Starscream shook his helm, confused. The squeaking grew ever more frantic, and his confusion ever deeper until he saw ‘Warp mime long audials and then wave his arm-nubs all around in a panic.

_Oppy wasn’t with them._

“Oh, right,” and Starscream settled back onto the ground. Apparently he was the only one with an understanding of the situation. “He didn’t make it. Now settle down. Time is of the essence if we intend to defeat Megatron-”

_Wharp!_

‘Warp had apparently taken “didn’t make it” to mean “lost and we are looking for him” as he rematerialized a few paces away and headed toward the nearest rock. Starscream face-palmed, and then face-palmed again when ‘Warp looked under the closest pebble as if actually expecting to find him there. After not finding Oppy, he hopped up onto a boulder and sucked in a massive inhalation. Then he rocked forward with a _momentous_ chirp that sent him rolling backward.

Inside Starscream’s cockpit, Thunders added his own contribution to the search party, trilling out his location as loudly as he could, so that Optimus might hear them and find his way back.

It was a good, nay, excellent attempt to call for Oppy, and Starscream frowned when he realized just how attached his trine mates had become to their playmate. It was really rather sweet, he recognized, however their efforts were doomed to failure.

“No,” Starscream said impatiently, “I mean he is dead. Dead, deactivated, gone. Dearly departed, swimming with the fishes. Hopefully had the sense to hide and starve to death instead of being picked apart piece by piece by that sorry pile of scrap Megatr-”

The tactless Starscream paid for his _unholy_ insensitivity when both seekerlets exploded into meepery of a decibel previously unheard of by seeker kind, twin high-pitched shrieks that punched him right in the audials and frankly, he deserved every minute.

“I’m sorry!” Starscream roared down at himself, and of course that didn’t help either. He stared at his cockpit, and his wings drooped when he saw his trine mates hugging each other, their little arm-nubs not even close to encircling.

“I’m sorry,” Starscream said softly, and this time he meant it. “It wasn’t part of the plan, honest. I was trying to get him home too. He’s gone, and I’m sorry.” This sort of thing was hard for him, being a pit-spawned glitch and all, but the sincerity in his voice – that soft admission of shared sadness – did help.

The two seekerlets didn’t stop meeping. They were far too upset for that, but their squeaks quieted down enough that he was certain ‘Warp wouldn’t try anything stupid, and so Starscream launched himself into the air.

“Come on. Let’s get you two back to normal,” Starscream said, and jetted his way back towards the Nemesis, to face down the second, and biggest pain in his aft.

One Megatron down, one to go.

***

 

Was his old enemy smiling at him?

Antlered Leader wasn’t sure, and the odd memory-flux faded away when he awoke a few breems after passing out. There was an impressive puddle of fluid pooling beneath him, and he was amazed he had come back on line at all.

His rival had a similar puddle, rapidly congealing, and his frame no longer held the lustrous silver hues of life, but the dull spreading gray of a deactivated frame. He was gone, and could no longer harm anyone else, ever again.

Antlered Leader was truly alone.

 _It’s time_ , he realized, _time to go find Optimus_ , and for that he felt no pity for himself. He slid his hands down and braced himself. He managed to get his feet under him and to lift himself, though his legs were trembling.

He didn’t collapse outright, but it was a near thing. His power gauge was deep in the red, and his servos were shaking. Desperate hunger ground his insides to shards, and he tapped at the blinking red light on his wrist panel.

 _A few breems left, perhaps less,_ Megatron thought, and it was just enough time. _I can make it back to Optimus._

Then Megatron dismissed his internal warning programs as useless, shutting them down one by one. They would only tell him unimportant things now, things that didn’t matter. His fate had always been second to his will, and as far as he was concerned this moment was no exception.

Megatron began to head back towards the base, back to his quarters and the place he had chosen to leave his mortal remains; next to Optimus Prime. He was looking forward to the rest, to the peace, to trading barbs and insults and foiling whatever plans Optimus was up to in the next life.

_Will we look the same? Will we remember each other? I **will** remember him, but will he recognize me? What should I say to him, and would an embrace be too soft-sparked, even for meeting again after such a momentous journey?_

Then Megatron stumbled and caught himself, leaving a streaking hand-print on the wall, another marker of his passage, along with the steadily diminishing blood trail in his wake. The jolt helped as much as it hindered, breaking his train of thought, derailing his mounting worries.

 _Sentimental rubbish,_ and Megatron chastised himself, irritated he was wasting his last moments imagining such sentimental clap trap. _Truly you are growing sentimental in your old age. This really is for the best, or soon we will be moaning over our energon for loves lost…_

Shuffling became stumbling.

Antlered Leader had never cared what happened to his husk once death claimed him. Such concerns had always seemed conceited; the selfish worries of weaklings too attached to material things. What did it matter the disposition of one’s frame, so long as one’s life had been worthy, and one's death the stuff of legends?

And yet now that the moment was truly upon him, suddenly it mattered. It was the only thing that mattered anymore. _Have to make it back to Optimus,_ and the thought was like a mantra. Stubborn as ever, Megatron forced his faltering frame back towards the little room with the spent torpedo casing, back to the room where Optimus was resting.

Almost there… just a little further.

Soon he was fighting for every step, and though his will never faltered, his frame was threatening to betray him, and that was infuriating, and the strength of his rage kept him moving, moving, one step after another.  He wasn’t far from the base when his legs gave out on him, sending him sprawling over the floor.  

 _Frag you,_ Megatron thought, furious with the distance remaining, furious at the floor, furious at himself. _You are stronger than this! Keep moving!_

All his focus went to returning to the same spot that Cyclonus and Demolisher had found him. This corridor was pitch black and there was no light from his frame anymore, no light from his optics, but the static from his visual feeds assured him they were still working, though they were flickering, cutting in and out. He sucked in a stuttering ventilation and the fading rattle was a familiar sound after eons of war and death.

Hand over hand, he dragged himself another few paces, insistent and unyielding. His HUD sputtered and then his visual feeds finally cut out _but he ignored them, it was lightless down here anyway. He knew the way. Almost there, just a little further and then he could rest…_

_“You … look like you could use a hand.”_

_Megatron looked up, surprised to see a gleaming figure before him._

_Optimus Prime was standing there. He was as big as life, his large blue and red frame clean and bright, with no signs of damage._

_His bright optics were filled with warmth, with one servo outstretched in offer, and Primus damn it all…_

_…Optimus **was** smiling at him._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is a cuddle chapter, Oppy does indeed make it to the Lost Light. :D


	9. Two Mechs and a Sparklet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Optimus is reunited with an old rescuer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Cuddles ahoy!

 

At first there was only darkness.

Trust in the smiling adult with the huge antlers had sent Oppy through the portal, but the darkness startled him, as did the shocking cold. He didn’t like the cold, especially when his temperature began plummeting.

This was not a nice place! Oppy hesitated and voiced a confused “peep,” yet when he tried to turn back to warn the adult not to go through, he found he couldn’t. There was only forward and not back.

_Bonk!_

Oppy squeaked for surprise when a strange metal thing bounced off his little head, barely missing his right audial. It resembled some sort of cog … perhaps a lost tool or part?  And then there was a cold rush, followed by a thrill of free fall, but without any wind.

Startled, Oppy’s little arm-nubs flailed, and that was followed by the sense of being sucked to somewhere more contained, as if he was pulled up inside a smaller cylinder. It was still too cold, and now his entire body was shivering. This was all very concerning, but then _voices_ pierced the darkness, radio signals picked up by his nascent audials.

“Oh no! No-no-no! I needed that! I can’t fix the quantum engines without it!”

The voice was feminine, sounding equal measures kindly and distressed. The acoustics were strange, all warped and distant, as if coming from the deep end of a tunnel. Then more voices followed. They were almost speaking over the top of each other for haste.

“Captain! What are you _doing_?!”

“Sir, your actions are against regulations – specifically Autobot code 754 in regards to unacceptable risks of command personnel – and sticking one’s servo into a quantum engine would qualify as a violation. You could lose your servo if you aren’t careful.”

“Tch, what’s a hand? It can always be replaced, but without Nautica's instrument we will be stuck here, functioning as a multi-universal traffic stop for all eternity.”

“Glorious Co-leader’s got a point–”

So many vaguely familiar voices saying so many confusing things! Then the shivering Oppy perked up when a flash of light burst into life in front of him. So bright! He immediately rolled towards it, trying to reach the voices. They were close, very close if his audials were picking them up, but the space around him was odd. It felt like he was rolling through molasses, and all forward movement was very slow.

Meanwhile, the voices continued. Their friendly arguing and back and forth banter was comforting, and gave Oppy something to focus on in this cold and dark and confusing place.

“Rodimus! Don’t encourage him! Autobot regulations clearly specify that–”

“Not now, Maggie!”

“Stand down, Ultra Magnus,” commanded a familiar, booming voice. “You forget that my frame is already riddled with quantum holes. I’ve had better fortune interacting with this cantankerous engine than any of you.”

“Hey! The engine’s only been acting up recently! Otherwise she’s been a real sweetheart!”

“Nautica, are you _seriously_ hugging the engine block?”

Then Optimus saw a hand appear in the darkness, back-lit from the spot of light just ahead. The hand was as black as the pit itself, but very real. It was groping blindly after something; most likely that oddly shaped tool that had bounced off his helm just moments before. But instead of recovering the lost item, that dark hand encountered Oppy instead.

“Mhm. I can feel the instrument, but I can’t quite grab it. It’s right at the tip of my–”

“Okay, time’s up, it’s my turn now!”

The dark fingers were delightfully warm, but they jerked further away and Optimus squeaked and followed after the precious hand, feeling the tips of the dark fingers as they glanced off his little tummy.

“Move _over_ Megs! It’s my shift, I’m captain, and I called time’s up!”

The strangely familiar voice snapped back, “How many _times_ must I tell you _not_ to call me that?”

It seemed hopeless at first, but then the dark fingers surged back, straining for Optimus again. Finally, Oppy managed to slip his tiny arm-nub through the warm fingers of the massive hand, which grasped him and then startled. His rescuer was clearly surprised for the feel of his little arm-nubs clinging around impossibly huge fingers.

“What in the name of the Allspark?!” that familiar voice exclaimed. But to Oppy’s relief, the dark hand didn’t release him. It held him with a strong grip, the most reassuring thing in the whole universe. Shivering, Oppy hugged the fingers even harder. He cuddled into their reassuring warmth and closed his optics, almost too cold to move anymore.

“–alright, that’s it!”

The dark hand jerked, as if some impatient and flashy mech was latching on the frame attached to it, and if said flashy mech tickled sensitive places in a well-meaning but inadvisable attempt to get the hard place to move, well, it worked.

And then Optimus was reborn into the light.

*******

 

Megatron of the _Lost Light_ reacted instantly when Rodimus’ unwanted hands landed on his frame and slipped under his plates.

The resulting tickling was the polar opposite of violent contact, but Megatron still reacted as if his life was at stake. Such intimate touch triggered a deep sense of alarm; four million years of brutal physical contact between himself and his kind (however much his own fault) had taken its toll, especially since physical contact tended to invoke intense anxiety, resulting in a feedback loop that did Megatron no favors.

Feeling exposed and vulnerable, Megatron twisted away, and thankfully his sudden thrashing broke the unwanted contact.

“Rodimus!”

Megatron barked rebuke as he tumbled down the steps of the engine’s supportive platform. He stumbled to his knees but kept moving, surging forward while trying hard not to look like he was recoiling. It worked, and he put a surprising amount of distance between himself and the others in the blink of an eye, all while still clutching whatever he’d grabbed.

“I thought you two were working on that,” Rodimus remarked to Ultra Magnus, who promptly looked affronted for the breach of privacy. Ultra Magnus had been visiting Megatron's quarters on the regular, but it wasn't public knowledge.

Out of the corner of his optic, Megatron saw Ultra Magnus wince and Rodimus bite his lip – they both knew how much he disliked being grabbed while vulnerable – but that little flash of regret wasn’t enough for Rodimus to keep from taking Megatron’s place at the front of the engine block.

“Sorry!” Rodimus called over his shoulder, adding, “But for the millionth time, it’s my shift, I’m captain, and you shouldn’t even be here!”

As apologies go it wasn’t the most sincere, but coming from Rodimus it was acceptable and Megatron didn’t pursue it. He was too distracted by whatever he’d grabbed – definitely not the tool he’d been reaching for! – which was wriggling in his fingers. His processor identified the nature of his handful a second later, and Megatron was too stunned to speak.

The crew of the _Lost Light_ didn’t notice Megatron’s surprise, as he was halfway across the room. They were too distracted, especially when Rodimus grabbed and pulled out the desperately needed tool on the first try and held it aloft.

“See!” Rodimus crowed to the tune of rousing cheers, “Piece of cake! I told you I got this!”

“It was a team effort,” groused Ultra Magnus, while stretching and rolling his massive shoulders. He was feeling on edge, and he wasn’t the only one. Everyone’s circuits were getting frayed, especially as several command level mechs had been awake for days now. Both he and Megatron refused to recharge while the ship remained trapped, and as a result, tempers were starting to flare on all sides.

“Team effort?” snapped Rodimus, and after playfully tossing the precious tool to Nautica, rounded on Ultra Magnus. “I grabbed it, so I get the credit for saving the day!”

“Team effort,” Megatron called from across the room. There was a half-grin in his voice; he never missed an opportunity to banter with his co-captain. It was a vice which was fully shared by Rodimus, and their back and forth was becoming a mainstay on the ship.

Otherwise, Megatron was tuning out his ship mates as he was too focused on his incredible find. There was a warning in the back of his mind – the last sparklet they’d found ended up being a pile of scraplets in disguise – but this little one seemed different. Pointedly so; the little sparklet had an EM field that was projecting his feelings out over his frame, sharing his state of mind. And what Megatron was feeling was very, very familiar, which left him pondering how many dimensions featured such a specific modification?

Megatron tucked the sparklet to his chest. He kept his back to the others and remained quiet as he processed, feeling overwhelmed by the moment. His mind was still struggling to accept what he was holding, all the while his senses dueled with his spark over not wanting to touch or be touched. And yet, he was also wanting to warm and comfort the youngster, who was, at least in this moment, solely his.

Ultra Magnus took a step towards Megatron, curious for his abrupt change in mood, and for what he was hiding in his servos. He was concerned for why he was seeing a slight tremor down Megatron’s back plating, but ended up standing tall when Rodimus got right up into his face. Those flashy yellow spoilers lifted in such a way as to suggest Rodimus wasn’t going to drop the argument until he’d won.

“When _I_ am on shift, _I_ am captain!” Rodimus reminded him. “How many times have Megatron and I agreed not to interfere with each other’s shifts?”

“Rodimus–”

“That’s Captain Rodimus. Co-captain my aft, this is _my_ ship, and why are you even still here? Your shift ended and I already told you I have this handled! But you still won’t go and recharge, almost like _you don’t trust me_ to command my own ship. So, are you two going to split or do you have something to say to me?”

“I have full faith in your command abilities,” Ultra Magnus replied. He threw a frustrated glance at Megatron, asking for backup. His unspoken plea went unanswered as Megatron was still turned away from them.

That left Ultra Magnus facing down an upset Rodimus on his own. For better or for worse, Magnus dug in his pedes and didn’t budge an inch. Instead he repeated his faith in Rodimus, in which every word was true, but still refused to leave when Rodimus demanded he go recharge.

“I don’t need your help,” Rodimus said.

Ultra Magnus blinked at that, and tried not to look hurt. “I disagree–”

But Rodimus seemed intent on making a point and so held his ground. His circuits were just as frayed, and he was beginning to take their constant presence as less a supportive gesture and more as a vote of no confidence in his leadership capabilities. That wasn’t necessarily true, but the longer Megatron and Ultra Magnus lingered, the more their protests were ringing hollow to the captain on shift. Especially with how vehement Megatron tended to get about no interference from Rodimus while on _his_ shifts.

Rodimus wasn’t exactly wrong, and now he wasn’t pulling his punches anymore. “Alright, so how about you two _prove it_ and go get some recharge?”

Still standing with his back to them all, Megatron didn’t hear any of the conversation, for when he’d unwrapped his fingers his suspicions were confirmed by the tiny frame curled in his hand. Turning his shivering little handful over, Megatron noted the little face, oversized audials, and the tale-tell blue and red frame.

“Prime?” Megatron mouthed, shocked.

Optimus was equally stunned. “P-p-peep?” and his vocalizer stuttered for cold. The sound was so soft as to be barely audible. At first he was frightened, instinctively so. Red optics and a silver frame instantly triggered an intense fear response, a remnant of some dreadful trauma that was currently smothered … yet still in play.

But the red optics looking down on him were kindly, as were the warm fingers cupping him, and then Oppy’s eyes brightened to see the bright red face on the silver adult’s chest; the sigil of the Autobots.

Megatron stared down at his little handful while Prime – his old enemy turned cautious friend and now judge and jury – stared back at him. Then Megatron realized how badly the little one was shaking with cold, seeming too confused and upset to process very well.

Looking concerned, Megatron pressed the tiny body back to his chest plates, even as the sound of pounding pedes grew louder and then Drift appeared in the doorway to the engine room.

“Rodimus!” Drift shouted as he burst through the entrance, “You won’t believe this! There are hundreds of mechs appearing and vanishing and flying all around us!”

Pouncing on the welcome distraction, Ultra Magnus’ gaze left the furious Rodimus to orient on Drift, who was acting like he was delivering breaking news. “Where have you _been_ the last few orns?”

“I was just discharged from the medbay,” explained Drift, and his sunny presence defused the tension in the room like nothing else. Rodimus mouthed ‘ _deep_ _breathing_ _meditation accident’_ at a confused-looking Nautica as Drift continued his explanation; “Finished my prescribed recharge cycle and went to get a drink, then I saw all these mechs flying past the windows!”

“It’s not just Cybertronians,” Ultra Magnus corrected, “All sorts of technologically advanced aliens are being affected. It’s a wonder that someone hasn’t noticed–”

“–that you and your curiously designed ship are currently functioning as the focal point in space-time for all realities, including several that are particularly dear to me?”

It was a stern British voice that interrupted Ultra Magnus, and now helms of all shapes and sizes whirled towards the interruption. Everyone looked down in surprise to spot a snappily-dressed human standing on the engine’s console. He was an older fellow with grey hair and piercing eyes, and behind him was an old-style phone booth, which was glowing oddly.

“Okay, concerned now,” announced Rodimus while pointing at the older human. “How did you get on my ship?”

“They call me the Doctor,” the stranger said, “and shall we stay on topic? We need to set things straight – _right now_ – before you cause any further damage. Now. What seems to be the problem?”

The tension drained out of everyone’s gyros when they realized the odd human was friendly and intended to help. Rodimus and the rest of the bridge crew crowded around the strange elderly human and began peppering him with questions, few of which he answered, as the Time Lord shot questions right back at them, insisting the Autobots explain themselves.

At the same time, Megatron’s little war with himself ended when a shivering Oppy snuggled under his warm hand. His mind mentally rearranged the little one from the category of “other to be concerned about” to a more acceptable category of “harmless puppy” and the feeling of tense anxiety eased.

 _He needs to be examined by a physician_ , and with that thought Megatron turned and took stock of the engine room, looking over the excited crowd of mechs surrounding the strange human. _Rodimus can handle this. I am off-shift after all,_ and having made his decision, he turned on his heel and abruptly strode out of the engine room.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Megs!” Rodimus called after Megatron’s retreating back plates, completely misunderstanding his sudden retreat. Even for his irritation, Rodimus’ tone was far friendlier then it had been in the past, and his optics lingered after the retreating frame.

Megatron didn’t bother to correct his co-captain. He just sighed and hurried a little faster, leaving the engine room behind. A plan was forming, and he didn’t notice Ultra Magnus’ slight frown or the way his second-in-command almost followed after him, only hesitating at the last moment.

But Rodimus noticed. “For the last fragging time, _go get some recharge_. I’ve got this under control,” and Rodimus jutted a finger in Megatron’s general direction. His words were gracious enough now that he was getting what he wanted, but the tone was still aggressive.

“Perhaps I should stay,” and Ultra Magnus inclined his helm towards the odd human.

But Rodimus wasn’t having that. He scowled and pointed towards the door. “Go recharge or whatever, ‘cause for the last time, I _got_ this. I don’t need your help, so clear the engine room.”

Looking caught out, Ultra Magnus opened his mouth to protest, but it was Rodimus who had the last word. “Captain’s orders, Maggie.”

Ultra Magnus sighed. He was irritated that his attempt to be helpful was being interpreted by Rodimus as a vote of no confidence – which was not true! – but he knew that look. Rodimus had made up his mind. There would be no changing it, and so Magnus obeyed and headed out the door.

Rodimus was about to call a parting shot after Ultra Magnus, but the Doctor wasn’t keen on playing second fiddle, and interrupted him mid-shout. Apparently the Time Lord had enough knowledge on the subject of quantum engines to start questioning Nautica on the particulars, and he seemed displeased when he learned that repairs would take at least another few hours.

“Is that a problem?” asked Nautica, noting the Doctor’s increasingly tense expression.

“Yes, actually it is,” replied the Doctor, whose hand had curled over his mouth. He glanced over his shoulder at the Tardis, and seemed to be weighing his response when he was startled by Rodimus, who began clapping his hands together in sharp bursts to get everyone’s attention.

Rodimus had only heard the first little bit of the conversation, the part where the Doctor could help them. Now he wanted a peaceful resolution to lord over his co-captain and second – preferably as soon as possible – and seemed convinced everything was already in the bag.

“This is great, awesome work everybody,” said Rodimus as he hopped up on the engine block to address the crew. “Now we focus on getting the engine fixed, everyone gets back to their dimensions, and then get back to the quest without any more delays or problems!”

“There is just one small problem with that,” the Doctor announced, and then cut off again when Rodimus wagged a finger at him, his flashy mouth dropping into a frown.

“Uh, no, actually,” Rodimus said firmly, “No more problems allowed. We are _way_ behind schedule so I’m going to have to put my foot down,” and Rodimus pointed downward and indeed, his foot was down.

The Doctor offered him a tight smile. “I would agree, but regretfully I have arrived only a few minutes before things are to become … complicated.”

At that moment, the Lost Light’s proximity alarm went off and the nearest console began blinking in warning. There was something on the ship’s hull that hadn’t been there an instant before and the ship’s sensors were unhappy about it.

“Complicated?” Rodimus asked, not liking the implication. At the same time, Nautica stepped to the side and began tapping at the nearest control panel, linking it to the ship’s sensory systems.

The alarm cut off a moment later, muted, and the Doctor crossed his arms. “It appears this fractured nexus would be the perfect launching point for an aggressive cybernetic species intent on expanding their program of universal destruction, if present company is any indication.”

Rodimus bristled and put his back up. “No way. We’re Autobots. We’re the good guys. We don’t do that universal destruction thing.”

“I wasn’t referring to _you_ ,” said the Doctor.

Meanwhile, Nautica had pinpointed the intrusion; a small invasion of strange mechanicals who were rolling down the Lost Light’s outer hull in single file. She tapped a key and began an external diagnostic scan, which picked up the approaching invaders and began running identifying programs.

Rodimus ignored her frenetic tapping for a moment, too caught up in the conversation. “But you said ‘the most destructive cybernetic species’ so who else would you be referring to but us,” and then Rodimus transformed to further prove his point. He folded himself into vehicle mode, then transformed back, and gestured down at himself.

But the Doctor seemed less impressed then Rodimus was expecting. “I am well aware of your race’s unique talents and destructive capabilities. As representatives of our respective species – _and_ as we are currently conversing in a genteel manner that _they_ will not – it is with regret that I inform you that you are the _second_ most dangerous cybernetic species. Possibly the third, if we are measuring carnage in lives lost … and now it appears you are about to meet the first.”

“Huh, would you look at that,” said Nautica as readouts highlighted the strange alien invaders on the vid-screen and audio joined video; revealing the sound of rumbling, like heavy machinery, however miniature, along with metallic voices shrieking one word, over and over.

“EX-TER-MINATE! EX-TER-MINATE!”

They were heading down the curve of the ship, towards the large outer bay windows of Swerve’s bar … looking nothing short of murderous traffic cones. Tiny murderous traffic cones, at that. The invaders were only a little taller than a human, which, to a Cybertronian, was barely even ankle high.

“ _That’s_ the most dangerous cybernetic lifeform in the omniverse?” asked Drift, and forgive him if he looked rather skeptical. Having faced down any number of apocalyptic situations, he found the mechanicals less than frightening, on account of their limited movement, limited height, and well, limited everything. He wasn’t the only one to think so; his question was nearly drowned out by Rodimus’ explosive laughter.

“They are called Daleks,” explained the Doctor, “and they are no laughing matter.” And indeed, there was no mirth in his tone or demeanor. He looked quite tense and glanced back at his odd phone booth.

“Da-leks?” asked Nautica, tasting out the word. “Well, they can’t be that terrible. I’ve studied all of the species in our galactic cluster back in University and I’ve never heard of them.”

“And for that you should count yourself fortunate,” the Doctor tersely replied. Behind him, his odd mode of transportation vanished, or at least everyone stopped noticing it, even after he waved at the phone booth, which everyone suspected wasn’t actually a phone booth at all, when they remembered that it was there, which currently they’d already forgotten.

Nautica blinked, and then her focus snapped back to the matter at hand. She shook himself and asked, “Should I request that Megatron return to the bridge to help co-ordinate our defense?”

Rodimus, still doubled over and laughing hysterically, pointed at the screen with a shaking finger. “So Megs can ask me why I couldn’t handle slagging _traffic cones_? How about no fragging way! I can deal with this myself, oh, and don’t bother with a ship-wide alert. That’s an order.”

Everyone seemed heartened by Rodimus’ lighthearted response, all but the Doctor, who wasn’t amused in the slightest. “Nautica, is it? Can you scan their weaponry and armor, and contrast them with your own capabilities?”

Nautica frowned and then nodded at the strange human with the harsh expression and piercing eyes. He was standing with his arms crossed over his front, and his voice held the haggard quality of someone who had _seen some slag_. The aliens did look silly, but Nautica was starting to get a bad feeling about all of this. She activated the ship’s diagnostic program and directed it on the approaching aliens as requested.

In the background, the Dalek’s war cries continued, and everyone else remained rather blasé about the whole thing until the ship’s scans came back.  “Weaponry is … surprisingly robust,” said Nautica, noting that the robotic invaders were less like robots and more like tanks then they first seemed.

“ _Tiny_ tanks,” Rodimus said, rubbing the optical fluid from his optics while Drift clapped him on the back several times, to help clear his ventilation systems.

“Well this isn’t good,” Nautica said, peering down at the readout with a growing sense of concern. “Their outer shells are made of a metal similar to Ununtrium.”

“ _Tiny_ Ununtrium shells.”

“That’s the same coating Overlord has,” said Drift and now even he was starting to look a little concerned. He didn’t have to add the obvious; that such a coating meant the aliens were effectively impervious to physical attacks and energy weapons.

Nautica shared Drift’s expression as she tapped at the keys again. “They have some sort of magnetic sealing mechanism, so they can’t be easily removed from the hull, or any metallic surface.”

“ _Tiny_ magnetic sealing mecha…” and then Rodimus hesitated, finally sensing a pattern. “So wait, are you saying these freaks are an actual problem?”

“That is _precisely_ what they are saying,” said the Doctor, who stepped onto the console that Nautica was still tapping on. “You would be wise to get with the program sooner rather then later.”

“I don’t believe this,” and Rodimus reared back and gestured skywards with both hands, beseeching the heavens, “Why do things always have to get weird on _my_ shifts?!”

“Well, actually,” and Nautica was just about to provide a carefully considered breakdown of all the ‘weird things’ and that they were actually following standard patterns indicating true randomness, when the first Dalek arrived at a junction in the ship’s outer hull. Without pausing, the little monster pointed his gunstick and fired.

The tiny shot went through the ship’s hull, blew open a Dalek-sized breach, and kept going, punching through every single bulkhead and floor, to emerge out the other side of the ship and out into space, the energy of the blast entirely undiminished.

The spectacle was caught onscreen, and then the alarms went off again, and the ship’s internal systems reacted instantly, re-pressurizing the holes in the ship’s outer hull, to which the Daleks still on the outside of the ship responded by blasting _more_ entry holes, one of which came perilously close to rupturing the quantum engine.

“Frag!” roared Rodimus and suddenly a line of the little monsters – each capable of punching tiny holes through the entire ship from any direction – wasn’t fragging funny anymore, and everyone exploded into action.

“I am contacting Megatron–”

“Absolutely not!” Rodimus yelped, as he wasn’t willing to suffer any snide commentary from his co-captain over what he still felt were glorified traffic cones. “I’ve _got_ this! Anybody that lets slip to Megs there’s any sort of problem has to bunk with Swerve for the next three days, no exceptions!”

“But, sir–”

“NO EXCEPTIONS!”

 

*******

 

"P-peep?" asked Oppy, aiming his concern up at the silver adult holding him.

Megatron was heading down the main corridor, and the _tromp-tromp-tromp_ of his massive pedes echoed down the empty hallway. Nestled against his chest, Oppy vocalized again, prompting Megatron to pat his little back and murmur comforting words. As miserable was he was feeling, Optimus merely puddled into soft snuffles instead of bursting into meeps. He was a stoic little sparklet, or at least he tried.

“Hold on, little one,” Megatron murmured to Oppy.

Shaking with cold, Optimus peered up at his rescuer, searching his face for any sign of malice. There was none, and then he saw the Autobot sigil. That face, with that sigil … it meant something to him … meant everything.  

Optimus reached out with cold, shaking arm-nubs and bumped the Autobot sigil on Megatron’s chest. His tiny optics went wide with wonder and relief when he realized the red face was real, though his soft snuffling didn’t cease. He didn’t have that much control over himself.

The hallway was empty, as most of the crew was off-shift for the night cycle, other than emergency personal. There was only the two of them as Megatron had left the engine room before any of the others realized what he was holding. He was reluctant to leave the engine room in a crisis, but consoled himself by deciding that Rodimus could live up to his title for once. 

Now Megatron’s mind was racing. _This is the second time this version of Optimus has ended up at my doorstep, and then as now, he is my responsibility_. _I will have to be careful if I wish to keep custody of him._

Megatron was already personally invested in this little sparkling, but didn’t entertain the notion of hiding the Prime again. He had learned his lesson the last time around. Yet he suspected that if the more vocal of his detractors – looking at you, Ratchet – had their way, the youngster would not only be removed from his custody, but also sequestered away, and that was something he didn’t want.

But first things first; Megatron needed to get this frighteningly cold sparkling to the medbay, Ratchet or no. He knew the brisk walk would give him a few needed moments to get himself together.

Megatron was considering contacting Ultra Magnus and taking him up on his previous offer – “I would have helped you if you’d asked” – but then froze in his tracks when the ship’s proximity alarm went off, and then fell silent a moment later.

“Bridge, this is the Captain,” Megatron demanded into his comms, refusing to refer to himself as co-captain. “Is there a problem?”

“No problems!” Rodimus snapped back, cutting off Nautica’s background greeting. “You are off shift, so go get some recharge. That’s an order!”

Megatron frowned, deeply disliking being ordered around, even though technically Rodimus was in charge. Then Oppy peeped, and Megatron decided not to argue. “Very well,” he replied, and then cut the line instead.

Megatron arrived at the medbay a few moments later, to find First Aid manning the medbay for the night cycle instead of Ratchet. The lights in the medbay were powered down low and First Aid was wiping down and disinfecting a complicated-looking set of medical implements. Ratchet was nowhere to be found, likely recharging, and that was a massive relief.

“I need your help,” Megatron called, striding into the medbay proper. “I just found this sparklet near the quantum engines and he is very cold.” He held out the little sparklet, prepared to hand him over for the moment. He stuck to the truth and followed all protocol, as he had already decided what he wanted and how he was going to get it.

Shocked, First Aid set aside his task and hurried over. He didn't immediately take the sparklet, but ran a hand-held scanner over him first, to confirm what he actually was. It was a sensible precaution, considering that the last "sparkling" they had found on ship had been nothing of the kind. But the scan came back positive, and First Aid made a startled noise when he realized Megatron was right.

“What is a sparklet doing on this ship?”

Megatron blinked at First Aid, and was about to remind him of all of the alternate realities they were currently straddling, but First Aid waved him off. Apparently the question was meant to be rhetorical, as First Aid took the small frame from him without another word, though he had to tug a bit before Megatron relinquished his grip.

After another scan, First Aid turned the little Oppy over and inspected his waste hatch, which was still moist. He did not like what he found, and ran another scan while holding the youngster upside-down as necessary.

To Oppy, this was all rather rude. He began chirping noisily, however stuttered, and he was trying to call for Starscream, for his playmates, for the adult with the big antlers, and when none of those caretakers answered his cries for help, he chirped even louder.

“He has an infection,” First Aid murmured, while Oppy went from chirping to beeping up at the medic, not appreciating being held by a total stranger. He squirmed and wiggled, and then directed his beeps towards Megatron, threatening to escalate to meeps.

Megatron murmured a few reassuring words, and then frowned at First Aid. “You look concerned. Is this infection life-threatening?”

“No, no, no,” First Aid said quickly, while loading an injector with a bright blue cartridge. After dabbing him with disinfectant, First Aid promptly gave the youngster a hypospray injection of nano-antibiotics right at the source of the problem, which Oppy did not like at all, not one little bit.

“It’s very mild, and other then involuntary leaking, he won’t suffer any discomfort. The infection should clear up in a few weeks with diligent care, but it’s the _type_ of infection that concerns me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that this sort of infection only occurs in situations of severe neglect or outright ... maltreatment. If we were back on Cybertron, and if this was a normal checkup, I would be required to file a report and there would be follow up investigations.”

Megatron frowned and crossed his arms over his front. He had an excellent idea why this particular Optimus might not be in the best of health, and he grew upset for the memories, though he didn’t explain all of this to First Aid, because such things weren’t fit to be spoken.

In the meantime, First Aid righted Oppy, and then had to re-adjust his grip on the beepy youngster, who nearly wriggled out of his grasp. All the struggling was actually helping though, as Oppy was starting to warm up on his own while trying his hardest to get back to his caretaker – the only one that was in range – which was the silver one with the sad red face and the kind red eyes.

“Well, at least he is safe now,” First Aid said kindly as he continued to wrestle with the determined little sparklet, while Megatron inched closer, which seemed to galvanize little Oppy to try even harder to wriggle free.

" **Beep**!" commanded Oppy, demanding the freedom that was his right as a sentient being, but the medic seemed unmoved, though otherwise very friendly. "Yes, I know you want down, but I am still checking you for ouchies, so hold still if you please," cooed First Aid as he carefully conducted a last few scans. And no, Oppy did not please, and informed the medic of this in a series of ever louder beeps.

“He will need a full round of medication – of which I just gave him his first dose – and then a warm bath and fuel, in that order.” Diagnosis and treatment prescribed, First Aid was just about to warm up an incubator when Megatron reached out and took Optimus back instead.

With a relieved squeak, Oppy rolled up Megatron’s front and threw himself into the hollow of Megatron’s neck. His little helm twisted around and he fired irritable beeps at the medic that had stuck him with … with … whatever that pokey thing was, _right in his mobility gluteal,_ which wasn’t very nice, no sir.

Megatron made no attempt to hand the sparklet back, and even covered the beeping Oppy with one of his hands, which only slightly muffled the beeps. First Aid blinked when Oppy’s huge audials and then angry blue optics peeked over the top of Megatron’s otherwise sheltering hand, and Oppy doubled down on the beeps _because_ _this is an outrage._

Megatron didn’t share that opinion, as medical procedures were needed and to be tolerated, but he did ignore First Aid’s outstretched hand entirely to point out that, “If he is otherwise healthy, then he needn’t stay in the medbay so long as he has a caretaker, isn’t that right, doctor?”

First Aid sputtered, because technically that was true. But this was _Megatron_ who was asking, and there were no small numbers of mechs that would question his taking responsibility for a turbo-puppy, much less a helpless sparkling.

Alas, before First Aid could compose a rebuttal that didn’t sound like he was being intolerant towards a former ultra-violent, homicidal and outright genocidal monster-tyrant, a heavy tread sounded on approach, and Ultra Magnus entered the medbay.

Ultra Magnus made a beeline for Megatron, looking concerned to have followed him into the medbay of all places. Then he finally spotted what Megatron was holding, and stopped dead in his tracks.

“That looks like Optimus,” Ultra Magnus said. Stepping close, he leaned over Megatron to get a better look, though he was careful to keep enough distance between them to avoid touching Megatron. His conscientious awareness of and respect for personal boundaries was always a positive mark in Megatron's ledger.

“He’s asked to keep Optimus with him,” First Aid said in a rush, shooting Ultra Magnus a look that begged for help. Normally he had a spine of steel when it came to the safety of his patients, but this was the Slag-maker. Even the most ferocious of warriors might hesitate in his place, and worse, he would find no ally in Ultra Magnus, not in this.

“I don’t see any reason for concern,” Ultra Magnus said, frowning slightly. After all, in his natural state, Magnus himself was rather smol and had never felt unsafe while Megatron was holding him (Christmas trees couldn’t decorate themselves, after all). Quite the opposite, actually, and because Ultra Magnus felt there was no risk of danger for the little sparkling, he said as much.

First Aid was flabbergasted, especially when Ultra Magnus pointed out that Optimus seemed to be growing very attached to his new caretaker. And there was a lot of cuddling going on, that was for sure, as Oppy was simultaneously giving First Aid a piece of his mind while trying to cuddle as far into Megatron's neck as possible. The angry beeps were starting to reside, though, and Megatron reached up and touched the curve of a tiny cheek and murmured, “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Peep,” Optimus replied, and his peeps were much steadier, though he was still shivering. He was more responding to the voice speaking to him as he didn’t understand meaning much anymore. He wanted to leave this scary place and huddled as close as possible. He just wanted to get warmer, sooner rather than later.

“He is too young to get a choice,” First Aid called after Megatron, insisting that “he needs to be with someone that can assure his safety.” First Aid was wringing his servos and after a moment’s hesitation, he proverbially grabbed his spinal strut with both hands and stood up for what he knew was right, like Ratchet would, the risk be damned.

Ultra Magnus turned back and dropped his hands to his hips. His voice was very calm and neutral as he asked, “Do you have a specific objection to levy?”

Optics boggling for the sheer audacity of the question, First Aid found himself tongue-tied, and Megatron was doubly glad it was First Aid on duty tonight, and not Ratchet. There was no question the identity of this little sparkling, and there would have been a fistfight over his care-taking arrangements, of that Megatron was absolutely certain.

But Primus was not smiling down on either medic tonight. First Aid, intimidated to be facing both authoritative mechs, mumbled a negative though his spark was shouting objections within him. He was just starting to overcome his fear to begin arguing again, but before he could get anywhere or think to summon Ratchet for backup, a handy distraction arrived.

“Captain? Are you alright?” Drift asked, and then startled when he spotted the little frame in Megatron’s hand. He bristled, assuming the worst – there had been an incident with scraplets not so long ago – but Megatron waved off his concerns.

“I am fine,” Megatron answered and then nodded, pleased. This was the perfect moment and the perfect mech for what he wanted. “Better than fine, actually. I have an announcement, and I need two upstanding witnesses.”

First Aid scowled, Drift cocked his helm curiously, and Ultra Magnus straightened, all of them suspecting what Megatron was up to, even as Megatron made his move.

“As per Section fifteen, Paragraph three of the Autobot Code – otherwise known as the Foundling’s Law – I hereby lay claim on this sparkling, claiming him as born of my own frame, accepting all responsibilities for him in accordance with our laws and customs.”

This section was not actually meant for this sort of thing; it was more a heinous justification for the use of newly born MTO soldiers, but judging by the horrified look on First Aid’s face, the shocked look on Drift’s face, and the thoughtful look from Ultra Magnus, it would do just fine for laying a claim on sparkling Optimus.

Even as Megatron finished speaking, Ultra Magnus had finishing consulting his internal copy of the Autobot Code. There were any number of regulations that could be applied to this potentially explosive situation, but none of them fairly, and as grounded as he was in protocol, Magnus dutifully recorded the date and time the claim was made.

After a moment’s thought, Drift just shrugged. He was concerned for sparkling Optimus’ safety, but not because of Megatron, who he knew from way back when. As the leader of the Decepticons, Megatron was a serious threat and was capable of anything. But as a normal citizen trying to find redemption, and as the captain of a civilian spaceship, he was an upstanding mech, and there were no concerns from Drift.

“There will be challenges to your claim,” Ultra Magnus informed Megatron and from the opposite side of the medical berth, First Aid nodded grimly. As swiftly as Ultra Magnus had taken down the formal claim, First Aid was penning an alert to Autobot Command with his objections.

“I am aware,” Megatron replied. He glanced at First Aid, nodded his thanks, and began to leave, with Ultra Magnus right at his heels.

“I am coming with you,” Ultra Magnus insisted, matching Megatron’s stride with gusto. “We had an event planned, remember?”

Megatron considered that carefully. Ravage was currently off-ship, having requested to go with a small team on a side-mission. He was helping hunt down a possible lead on the knights of Cybertron, with Megatron's blessing, and so there was no backup from that angle. _Maybe it would be wise to have Ultra Magnus stay the night, at least for the first night cycle,_ and Megatron was about to agree when Drift piped up from the background.

“You two are still meeting to treat Megatron’s haphephobia?” Drift asked, his helm tilting for curiosity. He was repeating a common rumor that Ultra Magnus and Megatron were meeting at each other’s quarters for touch therapy sessions, at Rung’s suggestion. He didn’t mean any harm by the inquiry and merely looked curious.

Megatron froze in his tracks. His spinal strut stiffened, as he absolutely hated that his personal problems had somehow escaped the safe space of his quarters. He then called over his shoulder, “I do not have a phobia of any kind, certainly not of touch.”

It wasn’t true and everyone knew it, but Drift didn’t press the issue. Shrugging his shoulders, he washed his hands of the matter and hurried after Megatron. He was intent on obeying Rodimus’ quarrelsome orders, which was the actual reason he had followed them into the medbay.

“I am supposed to escort you two to your quarters to rest,” Drift called after Megatron, adding, “Rodimus’ orders. He says everything is under control, and insists you not interfere or undermine his authority.”

Megatron and Ultra Magnus shared an exasperated look and kept walking. “I understand,” Megatron called over his shoulder, and then added for clarity, “I am heading to my quarters as requested, and do not require an escort.”

“He is being ridiculous,” Ultra Magnus grumbled, and Megatron nodded and picked up the pace. It was just as well as Oppy needed his immediate attention, and he wasn’t willing to delay that just to argue like a sparkling with his co-captain.

But that shared statement was something Drift took issue with, and he called rebuke after them, doggedly sticking up for his dearest friend. “Did you two _really_ have to antagonize Rodimus like this?”

Megatron merely sighed and kept walking. “You being here suggests that something _is_ wrong, and if I were a conscientious member of this crew and a responsible captain, wouldn’t it be prudent for me to report to the bridge and lend a hand?”

It was less a threat and more a point, though Megatron’s assessment that he might actually be needed was more correct then he realized. For his part, Ultra Magnus’ hand hovered over his own wrist comm, prepared to follow through that well-meaning threat with action, but Drift’s next words derailed absolutely everything.

“You know he _likes_ you, right?” Drift said to Megatron as he turned to leave, adding, “That’s why he cares so much that you think he can’t handle his own ship. I think a gesture of trust would go a long way to smoothing this over.”

Megatron blinked in surprise. “I never said that he can’t handle–”

…but Drift was already gone, his voice and his statement fading as he headed back the way he came, drawing his swords, his long stride eating up the ground as he raced towards whatever Rodimus was handling; that thing that totally wasn’t a serious emergency.

“I like you too,” Ultra Magnus said stiffly.

"Peep," said Oppy amicably (because everyone else was making noise, so why not Oppy?)

Ultra Magnus had laid his claim while looking straight ahead, or rather, glaring straight ahead, and yet again Megatron found himself blinking in stunned surprise. It was the third hammer that dropped squarely on Megatron’s spark that evening. Oh, he had the sense that Ultra Magnus felt that way, and it was a mutual feeling, but to have such things spoken aloud and freely, it wouldn’t happen in the Decepticons, at least not like this, and the words put Megatron’s back up and made him feel vulnerable and nervous.

“I’m not really in a good place for … _companionship_ right now,” Megatron started to say. He was about to continue to put some distance between himself and those feelings, those anxieties, however quietly in respect for the moment, but Ultra Magnus just waved his worries away.

“I know,” said Ultra Magnus.

That was the extent of it, those two words and a perfect understanding. Just like that, any discomfort evaporated between them and the rock and the hard place settled comfortably together, neither pushing the other in any particular direction.

Was this what trust felt like?

It was good.

 

***

 

Rodimus wasn't having the best evening.

He had already sent the more formidable members of Team Rodimus away with harsh words, something he was now starting to regret. Of course he refused to contact them as a matter of pride, but still. Now he was racing down the main corridor of the Lost Light, doing his best to distract the Daleks, with various degrees of success.

“Follow me you stupid tin cans!" yelled Rodimus, while ducking blasts from several mean-spirited gunsticks. "And don’t shoot up my ship!” he added after the fact. Fortunately the Daleks didn't have the best aim, considering the massive dent on his foot. Apparently punting Daleks wasn't the best plan, considering their magnetic sealing ... whatevers.

The Daleks didn’t listen, and with shrill cries of “EX-TER-MINATE! EX-TER-MINATE!” they continued to fire, each shot ripping through the ship in all directions. The damage they were inflicting was tiny, but each gunshot ran the risk of hitting the quantum engine, and thus blowing the ship into smithereens.

The risk was not lost on Rodimus, who shouted back over his shoulder, “I _said_ don’t shoot up my ship!”

“They _are_ still shooting up the ship,” Nautica reported helpfully over the comms. She was serving as a coordinator for the defense, in place of Megatron. She was doing a damned fine job of it, too. Far less snark, but she did have a sense of humor. “At this rate, there will be more holes then ship.”

“We need to get these things off the _Lost Light_ , right now,” Drift shouted from the opposite direction. The Daleks heard him and sent a smattering of shots his direction, some of which landed, and Drift yelped as the landed shots left perfect holes that punched through his frame, leaving little pinpricks of white hot pain. His systems plugged up the tiny holes in short order, but another stint in the medbay was looming in his near future.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Rodimus yelled back. He was riddled with tiny holes as well, and was truly frustrated.

Nautica interpreted his demand as an order. “The engines are almost fixed – assuming the invaders don’t blow a hole in them – and Brainstorm says as soon as we get to normal space we can activate the hand-held teleporter he is constructing and teleport them off the ship, preferably into the nearest black hole.”

“Finally!” Rodimus snapped, “Some good news!”

“Oh,” Nautica added whimsically, “And the Daleks are still shooting holes in the–”

“Do _not_ teleport them into a black hole,” said the Doctor from his perch on Drift’s shoulder. He corrected them across internal comms with a sharp wave of his hand, using the small communicator given to him. “You must transport them into the fiery heart of the nearest star. They can withstand the initial gravitational forces of a black hole, and might even travel through it to emerge and terrorize a new universe.”

“Hold the phone,” Brainstorm broke in, “Are you confirming that black holes do, in fact, function as inter-dimensional wormholes, and also, who are you and what is your credentials for such a grand scientific claim?”

The comm-line crackled as Brainstorm spoke, and in the background of his lab, it sounded like science was going awry, with _cracks_ and _pops_ and _clatters_ and the melodious sound of important things catching fire, while also in the background, Perceptor was yelling condemnation in the form of rival teleporter schematics that were “of sound design and actually prone to work,” and then the comm line muffled – no doubt due to Brainstorm’s hand clapping over the microphone – and Brainstorm yelled back “I’ve been working on this for hours” to which Perceptor demanded “how does that make any difference” which Brainstorm answered “because science, that’s why” to which Perceptor replied, “that’s not how science works, you unmitigated _hack_ ,” and there may have been a fist fight, but no one noticed because everyone was too busy worrying about the murderous traffic cones.

It was all very exciting, dodging all of the blaster fire and hearing all sorts of exotic alarms go off all throughout the ship (confined to internal comms so that Megs and Maggie wouldn’t be disturbed) and through it all, Drift remained an island of calm in what felt like a sea of nose-picking Nautilators.

“So,” Drift said while simultaneously ducking even more gunshot and eyeing the tense but otherwise composed Time Lord riding atop his shoulder, “What is the worst case scenario here?”

“That the Daleks will accidentally hit the quantum engine, which would cause a chain reaction that will destroy every single universe simultaneously, which will in turn cause such a disruption to the astrosphere – that overall construct that continuously renews itself to form our universe over and over again – which will cause the destruction of everything that we hold dear, indeed, everything that ever was or will be, eternally.”

“You sound like you deal with this sort of thing a lot,” Drift said thoughtfully, while darting down a side passage with a gaggle of Daleks in pursuit. There was a certain haggard quality about the Time Lord that Drift found himself relating to.

“Regretfully, yes,” the Doctor replied. He was tapping at a small device that Brainstorm had cobbled together, imputing coordinates for his universe, or to be more specific, a particularly hot star.

Always the curious sort, Drift was finding the whole concept of a Time Lord fascinating. “So how often have you saved our universe, in a roundabout sort of way, like today?”

“Too many times to count,” replied the Doctor as they turned the corner and headed back towards the Daleks.

 

***

 

Oppy was cold.

Not deathly so, but definitely uncomfortably so, and now his little bottom hurt thanks to scary medical doctors and their hyposprays of meanness. It was all a little much, really, and Oppy was considering a good, long meeping session to expound on his unhappiness when the two big adults walked into a sparsely furnished room.

The change in scenery startled him. “Peep?” asked Oppy, and then he was cupped and lifted up and then down, onto the sole furnishing, which was a simple sleeping berth.

Oppy immediately began rolling back towards Megatron, threatening to meep, wanting to be held and comforted, because those fingers were warm and he wanted them. He was in dire need of cuddles, definitely more cuddles, as his cuddle-reservoir was tragically low, thanks to Starscream not being the cuddling sort, or the sort to dispense cuddles, or really being very cuddle-able at all.

But Oppy stopped rolling and hesitated when he encountered a little tub filled with clean fluid, set down before him. And now the silver adult with the bright red eyes was smiling down at him. He made a supportive gesture with his hands, encouraging Oppy to investigate this new situation, and Oppy’s helm tilted as he considered.

The fluid-filled tub was shallow and steaming, and it did look rather nice, and Oppy perked right up. He tootled over and peered into the tub and poked his arm-nub into the water, and his little plates poofed out. The fluid _was_ warm and very nice, and Oppy cheeped for happiness when the big silver adult lifted him up and settled him into the lovely tub.

Oppy ducked under the water and the sore spot on his bottom eased for the warmth, and soon the warmness spread even to his coldest places. He moved around the tub as close to his caretakers as possible and popped back above water with a high-pitched chirp, and one of his caretakers pretended to be surprised and ducked, and that was the _funniest thing ever_ and then the fluid splashed invitingly.

“Squeak?” asked Oppy, noting the splashes, and a plan began forming.

Raising his arm-nubs, Oppy brought them down as hard as he could, and the resulting splash was most agreeable, especially when the adults chuckled and wiped the wet off themselves.

Oppy took that as a personal challenge, and so the planned meepery was canceled.

 

***

 

“Should we go out and help them?”

Ultra Magnus was still monitoring internal comms just like Rodimus told him not to, and he was growing rather concerned. There was a lot of yelling and yelping and ducking and dodging and shouts of "oh the transformanity" along with Rodimus' theatrics and otherwise crazy antics, and it sounded like a madhouse out there. It made for a cracking good reason to stay inside for the duration, but the question was, was the _Lost Light_ actually in any danger, and should he be concerned?

Sitting on the berth, Megatron was watching over a tub filled with warm fluid that was currently housing a much warmer and much happier sparkling. He glanced over at the pacing Magnus, and answered after a moment’s contemplation.

“No, I think not,” Megatron replied, adding, “I fear Rodimus will take it the wrong way. He has taken responsibility for the ship and crew, and I feel it would be best if we honored his desire.”

“You want to watch Optimus enjoy his bath,” Ultra Magnus translated. He was standing off to the side, to avoid getting further splashed as Oppy was playing in his little bath tub and enjoying himself immensely.

Oppy had progressed from rolling back and forth in the warm fluid – only his little audials above the water like a pair of shark’s fins – to bouncing up and down to create high waves (well, high to him, anyway). That escalated to splashing with his little arm-nubs, and now there was fluid splashed absolutely everywhere.

From the sound of things, Oppy was having the time of his life. Happy cheeps and beeps filled the room, bouncing off the walls, making it sound like there were a horde of happy sparklings having the time of their lives, instead of just one little Prime.

“Ready to come out?”

Oppy paused, tilted his little helm, then beeped and splashed his caretaker, rolling away leaving a line of _peep-peep-peeps_ in his wake, as if he expected to be chased for being so naughty. He made a good run for it though he didn’t have far to go. The tub was rather small, which was perfect for him, as he was rather small.

Megatron left him to play a little longer, and then when it was clear Oppy was both very warm and very waterlogged, finally intervened and lifted the cheeping youngster out of his bath, ending playtime.

Wrapping Oppy in a warm blanket, Megatron proceeded to start filling the cuddle-reservoir, and followed after Ultra Magnus to settled down for the evening. The lack of furniture beyond the berth in the middle of the room was never more apparent as they decided which wall to seat themselves against.

Normally they stood while conducting their therapy sessions, and there was also the matter where Ultra Magnus was going to sleep, but that was a trope nobody was interested in anymore. “You really should let me order you a table and some chairs,” Ultra Magnus said as they settled down to the floor, propping their back plates against the solid surface.

Megatron was about to answer in the negative and give his reasons, but before he could he was interrupted by an ominous rumble from outside his quarters, suggesting the approach of a very heavy contingent of something. They both startled and reached for their weapons when the door opened automatically. The sensors had detected passing movement and opened as if for a guest, as neither Megatron nor Ultra Magnus had remembered to lock it in the excitement.

But what had triggered the sensor continued to roll on by, right into their line of sight and beyond, continuing onward down the corridor without pause, all whilst shrieking malicious cries of “EX-TER-MINATE! EX-TER-MINATE!”

Megatron just blinked. “Magnus, did you just see a line of … of _traffic cones_ go rolling past?”

“Angry traffic cones,” Ultra Magnus confirmed with a frown. He considered the matter and then muttered, “What the beep is with this ship?” (and he actually said ‘beep’ because one would never catch the former duly appointed enforcer of the Tyrest Accords cursing around protoforms).

Megatron shared his opinion on the state of things, and then Oppy surprised them both when he pointed at the passing parade with his arm-nub and beeped in agreement. The sparkling had moments like this, where it seemed he understood speech, though they were few and far between.

Ultra Magnus smiled at Optimus, and then remarked, “I would like to go out there and engage them, but I am sure Rodimus would be offended. Perhaps you are right and we should just let him handle this. I want things to go back to normal between us as soon as possible.”

“Mhn,” rumbled Megatron in full agreement.

The both of them considered what to do, and then the moment passed and the murder-cones continued on their way. It seemed as if they were heading towards the bridge, but Ultra Magnus and Megatron let them pass without challenge, though Megatron cupped and shushed little Oppy so as to not catch their attention.

Then the door swished closed and Megatron tapped the lock closed from his wrist panel. He settled back down, but it wasn’t long before they heard pounding pedes barreling down the hallway.

One of them stopped and Rodimus yelled through the door, “Everything is definitely under control out here! Sweet dreams!” and then hurried past.

“Beep!” commanded Oppy as he rolled down Megatron’s arm and hopped to the floor, as if he intended to follow after the group chasing after the Daleks, to impose sparkling justice upon the murderous aliens. It wouldn’t have ended well, but fortunately he didn’t make it very far before he was scooped up and lifted back.

“ **Beep**!” commanded Oppy, using his mightiest of beeps as he pointed his arm-nub at the door. His meaning was very clear, as if to say “come on then!” and then he trilled protest when his rally cry was ignored and he was cuddled close instead. For the Prime was not interested in cuddles! The Prime was interested in _justice_ , and Oppy began hopping up and down, as if expecting that his enthusiasm for trouncing bad guys would rub off on the two adults.

“Do you remember me?” asked Megatron as he pulled Oppy closer, nestling him under his chin. This was very close to his fueling port, which was uncovered, and Oppy was thus distracted from trouncing bad guys by fueling.

Ultra Magnus watched Oppy snuggle in and tilted his helm. “So you think this is the same Optimus Prime you rescued before?”

“I am sure of it,” Megatron replied, stroking over the youngster’s back with soothing pets, which left Oppy’s little engine purring. His cuddle-reservoir was full, and for that he was a happy little Prime. “I recognize the feel of his energy field. It … spikes sometimes, when he looks at me and forgets that I am friendly.”

Megatron glanced away without moving his helm, so as to not jostle Optimus, while biting his glossa. Ultra Magnus still didn’t know the full tale, and Megatron had no interest in recounting that harsh period of time that Optimus Prime had been his unwilling guest.

“Do you think it would be better for the both of you if someone else takes care of him?” Ultra Magnus asked, broaching the subject carefully and yet directly. “I would be willing to take custody of him, and you could still visit him as you wish.”

Megatron appreciated the candor; one of Magnus’ many positive traits. “No. He _does_ remember me, and I still feel … responsible for him. I intend to care for him as long as he needs it.”

“I’d like to help,” Ultra Magnus offered, “If you don’t mind.”

Megatron smiled. “I would appreciate that.”

Ultra Magnus looked pleased, and then reached out his hand. It hovered over Megatron’s arm-plating, and Megatron braced himself and nodded. The hand descended and rested companionably on his arm, and he endured the rush of anxiety.

Systematic desensitization was a slow but effective treatment for phobias of many types, and when the rush of fear had eased somewhat, Megatron smiled back.

 

 

**THE NEXT MORNING …**

 

The Daleks were escorted off the Lost Light in due course, right into the inviting embrace of one of the hottest stars within reach. Shortly after, the Time Lord helped them repair the quantum engine, and then bid them adieu. Rodimus directed the cleanup crew, and by the next morning everything had settled into something resembling normality ... with the exception of the _Lost Light_ herself, which more resembled a ripe block of swiss cheese then a space going vessel.

“We should be docking back on Cybertron for repairs tomorrow,” Rodimus announced while pointing playfully at Blaster, who was making an announcement over the ship’s systems. “You know what that means, right?”

“Weeks of painstaking repairs scheduled for anyone with any sort of technical skill?” called Brainstorm sarcastically, and to be fair, he was exactly right.

Rodimus didn’t miss a beat. “That’s right! Planet-side vacation for anyone not named Brainstorm!” and happy cheers met that announcement, minus Brainstorm who was grumbling, and Rodimus’ hands dropped to his hips. He felt a surge of satisfaction to hear the congratulations, the adulation, and the support and respect that he so richly deserved for saving the day, and the universe, and the multi-verse, and…

“Wait, what?!” and Rodimus whirled as he spoke, looking irritated that his admiring audience had abandoned him. Team Rodimus and the rest of the usual suspects were crowding around Megatron now, and Rodimus found himself equal parts curious and annoyed. 

Ultra Magnus was playing bouncer apparently, and gently cleared the crowd and sent them away, even as Rodimus hurried over to see what the commotion was about. There had been some sort of kerfuffle with Ratchet that morning, involving him chasing Megatron around the ship for a few laps, or so the rumor mill was reporting, though the sinfully delicious details were sparse.

Megatron straightened himself when he saw Rodimus heading his way, and his servos encircled. It was obvious he was holding something hidden in his servos, and Rodimus, taking umbrage at the loss of his admirers, promptly ordered everyone back to their stations.

Ultra Magnus stepped to the side and Megatron drew himself up, looking positively serene. “I have an announcement."

Rodimus planted himself with both hands on his hips, looking suspicious. The tiny smile on Megatron's face meant something was up, though for the life of him, he had no idea what, and so took a decent stab at it.

“You are taking up knitting to deal with your _outrageous_ anger issues?” Rodimus guessed, optics all sly because this sort of guessing game was totally his bag, and also, his favorite thing ever.

“No–”

“You finally developed a fashion sense and plan on painting yourself _any other color_ than the color of death?”

“No–”

“You are finally going to take that ginormous stick out of your aft and give poor Riptide a passing grade on Interpretative Astrophotography?”

Okay now that was a low blow. “Consuming mass quantities of flatulence-inducing compounds and photographing the results en flambé is not a respected nor credible representation of a supernova!”

Realizing this sort of thing could go on forever, Megatron dropped the subject of students and their idiotic stunts. Instead, he just beamed and announced “I had a protoform!” and held up his little Optimus Prime in the same moment.

“Beep!” greeted Oppy, who spread his arm-nubs for a hug.

Flabbergasted, Rodimus’ jaw dropped and hit the floor with an audible _thud_ when he didn’t know what to say or even think. It was a painfully amusing moment for Megatron, who dearly loved any chance to pull the rug out from under his flighty co-captain.

It ended up backfiring, however.

Rodimus recovered in record time. He was no fool and put everything together all at once; Megs holding something in the engine room, Megs leaving in a hurry, Megs and Mags staying holed up in their room for once, Ratchet going off the deep end and getting into a one-sided fistfight with Megs and Mags the next morning…

“I want to help you with him,” Rodimus demanded, his optics bright with amazement, amusement, and excitement. There were many reasons why that was so; the chance to spend more time with Megs but not as captains-butting-helms, the sheer amount of attention anyone holding a sparkling Oppy would inevitably receive, being able to cuddle said Oppy whenever he desired, but most especially _the look on their Optimus Prime’s face._

Rodimus owed that big blue and red paragon of virtue and usurper of private ships for unresolved personal issues bigtime for naming Megatron co-frigging-captain of his fragging ship, and he wasn’t missing this opportunity, oh no.

“Me too!” called Nautica, adding her voice to the chorus of voices in agreement, and Megatron found himself defending his position of primary caretaker against swarms of merry well-wishers.

There was a sudden noise to Megatron’s left, and a hele-former of ill repute appeared, holding out his hook-hands pleadingly. “My turn to hold him,” Whirl insisted, and then smiled when Oppy reached out and tried to poke him in the optic, curious for the moving lens. Fortunately the moment was derailed when Brainstorm finally caught sight of what the hubbub was about and leapt to the exact wrong conclusion.

Drawing his gun, Brainstorm pointed it right at Oppy with a shrill screech and shouted, “Scraplets!” while at the same time Ultra Magnus yelped and threw himself in the way, raising both hands in a panic. Everyone started yelling all at once, which wasn’t exactly helpful because that meant that nobody could hear anybody very well.

“No,” Megatron exclaimed, staring down the business end of Brainstorm’s alarming-looking weapon from around Magnus’ protective barrier, “He’s not composed of scraplets. He’s a real sparklet.”

That was all he needed to hear, and Brainstorm would have backed down if given half a chance, but Whirl was already on it. He intervened before the scientist even had a chance to drop his weapon.

Whirl gleefully tackled the hapless Brainstorm to the ground, a playful scowl across his single optic (how he managed the expression was anyone’s guess, but he _was_ scowling) and that caused the scientist to shriek for help.

“Hey! Back off everybody!” Rodimus shouted, and was enormously pleased when everyone immediately obeyed. Whirl let the apologetic Brainstorm up, Nautica went back to cooing, Rodimus checked their progress towards Cybertron with a glint in his optic … and Oppy was _loving_ the chaos around him, waving his little arm-nubs and doing his best to chirp over all the loud noises.

So exciting!

Both Ultra Magnus and Megatron protected the tiny frame, holding Optimus against his chest plate as he waved off the crowd. Rodimus joined in, admonishing them to return to their stations and tasks while the tiny sparklet all but vanished from sight behind the protective wall of his caretakers.

"Here," Rodimus said, stepping closer to Megatron, "let me hold him."

"In a moment. He's too excited," Megatron said, taking a step back and trying to calm the over-stimulated Oppy, who was bouncing up and down and all around. He was squeaking and beeping in time to his bounces, and wasn't settling back down very well.

One brief moment of peace later, and a noisy squeak sounded across the bridge, as Optimus Prime, the defender of the universe, took a swan dive out of Megatron’s protective arms to land with a mighty beep atop Whirl, who had been sidling up to Megs in the manner of a used car salesman, or someone that really, really loved sparklings.

Landing with a happy squeak, Oppy began bouncing up and down on top of Whirl’s helm, peeping happily with his arm-nubs raised in victory, much to Whirl’s intense amusement. It was less a military victory and more excitement over the successful leap (not that Oppy was in danger of falling with so many caretakers around him) and Whirl's delighted expression never faltered, even when Blaster couldn’t help but note that “didn’t the real Prime love landing on top of enemies in vehicle mode?”

Rodimus knew the answer to that one. “He loves the crunching sound that evil makes under his tires,” and he waved apologetically at Whirl, who frankly couldn’t have cared less. He was more then happy to answer to 'evil' in this case.

Taking advantage of the situation, Rodimus caught the little sparklet mid-bounce and lifted him up, so that they were face-to-face. Oppy cheeped a greeting, and stared, mesmerized by all the flashy colors, his optics whirring as they focused back and forth between Rodimus' pointy yellow chevron and bright blue eyes. "You are way happier as a sparkling then a _grumpy old Prime_ ," and Rodimus sing-songed the last bit of that statement, then grinned when Oppy tried to grab his nose. "Hey now, that's mine. It's got my name on it and everything!"

“He’s very playful,” Ultra Magnus noted and then lamented they didn’t have anything other than themselves for him to play with. For as everyone knows, duly appointed enforcers of the Tyrest Accords, even former ones, weren’t much fun to play with.

That glum statement actually got a laugh out of everyone, and then Nautica perked up. “Stay right here,” she said to Megatron and then turned and ran from the bridge, hitting the main corridor at a dead sprint.

Megatron watched her leave with a curious expression. Then he tried to take Oppy back from Rodimus. It didn't work out as well as he expected, as he found himself caught up in a very gentle tug-of-war with his flashy co-captain, who wasn't ready to part with the little Prime. It was Oppy who decided the outcome of the battle; a decisive win for Megatron when he wiggled out of Rodimus' grip and rolled up Megatron's arm to perch on his shoulder. He cuddled into his caretaker's neck, peeping contentedly.

A few paces away, Brainstorm got back to his pedes, amid many grumbles. “Sorry about that,” he called to Megatron after dusting himself off, and then repeated his apology when Megatron tried to downplay his reaction. After all, the last sparkling found in such a manner had turned out to be a pile of scraplets, a situation that could have ended badly for everyone on the ship.

Megatron waved off the apology. "Entirely understandable, considering previous experiences–"

“No seriously,” Brainstorm insisted, “I will make it up to you and him,” and with that cryptic statement the scientist wandered off, already concocting plots and plans involving returning errant Primes back to their universes, and also, sparkling toys.

At the same time, Nautica burst back onto the bridge, out of breath but triumphant. “Here,” she said breathlessly, handing over a soft, red item.  “I had it made as a joke gift for Skids, but now I want Optimus to have it.”

Megatron accepted the item with a quirk of his brow-ridge, and turned it over. It was suitably soft and lacking in any dangerous edges and it was at least twice Optimus’ current size.

But it was Oppy who first recognized what it actually represented, and he perked up, his little audials orienting on the item. With a noisy squeak, he rolled down Megatron’s shoulder and across his arm, making a beeline for the red thing, trilling in delight.

“I think he likes his squishy!” Nautica exclaimed, her face bright and her smile dazzling. For his part, Oppy’s cheeps couldn’t have sounded happier when Megatron gently handed him the bright red plushy with the sad face; a soft replica of the Autobot sigil.

 

*******

**THREE DAYS LATER…**

 

Optimus Prime was scowling.

He was leaning against the wall in the grand hall of the Autobots, now re-purposed as a meeting room for the various leaders of the Cybertronian factions. He was distracted, listening to Prowl’s muttering with one audial, though the Lost Light’s command staff held the lion’s share of his attention.

Rodimus and the rest of his command crew were waiting for the all clear to move the _Lost Light_ from the primary interstellar docking bay to a nearby repair bay, and the process was taking longer than it should, for various reasons.

Optimus Prime had shown up to try and help things along, only to discover the _Lost Light_ had a new crew member. He had been looking forward to spending time with his old enemy. What he had not been expecting, was to spend time with a smaller version of himself. For across the room, Megatron was holding a tiny version of Optimus and was currently patting his little bottom, and it was giving Optimus Prime the _surges_.

All the random screams of “can I hold him?!” from delegates passing through wasn’t doing much for his mood, especially when Rodimus – without fail – explained the situation in glorious detail and then pointed at Optimus Prime, and then back at the little sparkling, and then went on to explain various messy details about the daily experience of caring for sparklings.

Every, single, time.

“You are so adorable!” and Nautica was making faces and baby talk at sparkling Optimus, who kept waving his tiny arm-nubs for excitement. There was a definite parallel between their natures, as his sparkling self would calm down almost immediately, his face smoothing over into a dignified calm, and then Nautica would start up again, and a massive smile would break out over his face plates and he’d start cheeping again, wiggling with excitement and everyone had to agree that he was painfully cute.

“You are sulking,” Ultra Magnus murmured from where he was sitting at a nearby table.

Optimus frowned. “I am not,” he protested evenly, even as his shoulders hunched even further down. He was not sulking. He wasn’t. He was evaluating the situation, even though he’d been informed that Megatron’s claim was legal and binding. Oh, there were challenges and challengers, but with the slow way that justice moved, little Oppy would be back to an adult size and returned to his universe long before the long arm of the law was effective.

 _Well, that is one law that is getting a stern working over,_ Optimus Prime thought, and then he winced when Starscream arrived, with several delegates and the ever charming Windblade at his heels.

“I hear you had some sort of accident,” Starscream purred, sidling up to Optimus Prime and taking position at the wall next to him. The delegates peeled off and headed over to where all the chirping was coming from, while Starscream watched with gleeful eyes. 

A long, painful silence passed, and then Starscream shook his helm. “I can’t _believe_ you idiots let Megatron keep a sparkling.”

"It won't be long until Optimus returns to his full size, only a few weeks," Ultra Magnus said, sounding defensive. “I have been monitoring them both.” This probably wasn’t the first time he defended Megatron, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Starscream looked skeptical. "He will still have the mind of a sparkling, though. He will be processing at an adult level, but he still has to learn everything, assuming you don't just upload a knowledge pack directly into his processor. I know it's been some time, but surely you still remember how this works?"

"Actually," Ultra Magnus corrected, "Optimus was originally an adult, and somehow regressed to a sparkling state. As soon as he begins to process at a normal level, his memories should come rushing back."

"Then there will be two of you," Starscream said, and the distaste in his voice made Optimus Prime smile behind his mask. It meant he was doing something right, he was certain.

Ultra Magnus caught Optimus Prime's look and offered him a fond smile. "Our resident mad scientist, Brainstorm, has been working with Perceptor, and we think we can transport that Optimus Prime" - and here Magnus pointed at Oppy - "back to his dimension. They even think they can send him back roughly the same time he left, thanks to differences in his time-stream and ours."

"Well, that's something at least," Starscream said with a sniff, as Optimus Prime was not his favorite mech. Two Primes was one Prime too many, and he said as much, to the Prime’s rueful agreement.

Then Starscream forgot himself, and stepped forward to grab a drink off the nearby table. This put him directly in the line of sight of his most hated enemy, and across the room, Megatron did indeed catch sight of Starscream, and smiled pleasantly at him.

The expression seemed perfectly innocent, and Windblade blinked in surprise as Starscream unabashedly slipped behind her, hiding himself from Megatron’s gaze by hiding behind her. There was a lot of history between the two Decepticons, and most of it wasn’t good for either party.

“I think I missed part of this story,” said Windblade, her gaze bouncing between Starscream and Optimus Prime, while her elegant wings lifted slightly for curiosity. “So what happened to Optimus?”

Optimus Prime was _not_ in the mood to answer that question. “Go ask Rodimus.”

“No, don’t go ask Rodimus. Just stand right there and don’t move,” Starscream commanded, still using her as an optical shield to hide from Megatron, and Windblade snorted.  

Fascinated, Windblade watched as Starscream continued to adjust himself to keep out of sight of Megatron. She understood hating interacting with people in a setting like this, but it seemed to her that Starscream was taking it a bit far.

Windblade was just about to head over and do exactly what Optimus Prime had suggested when there was a sudden hiss from the crowd around Megatron, almost exclusively crew from the _Lost Light._

At first Megatron seemed confused for their reaction, and then blinked down at himself. There was a thin trickle of fluid splattering down his front, and he said something to Rodimus, while clearly doing his best to avoid alerting Oppy.

One mild frown later, and the Lost Light crew panicked around Megatron.  “Get him his squishy!” Rodimus stage-whispered, waving frantically at Ultra Magnus, who left his chair and charged forward with all the urgency of the others and began rummaging through a basket of sparkling toys on the ground.

“Quick, divert him before he realizes he’s messed himself again!” Nautica whispered back, and no less than five grown-aft Autobots ran around in circles while trying to locate his ‘squishy,’ which turned out to be a plushy of the Autobot sigil.

Ultra Magnus located and offered the little toy to Megatron, like a knight offering over his sword. From the sound of things, it was the sparkling Prime’s most favorite thing in the universe.

Cleanup was swift as Rodimus danced in place while singing “I’m a diversion, I’m a diversion!” in a silly voice. It worked, and Oppy was completely distracted by the funny faces as Rodimus took Nautica’s place as the most interesting adult to look at.

Windblade took the opportunity to wave Nautica over, and then heard the whole story from her. “He gets _so upset_ when he accidentally leaks on people,” Nautica was saying to Windblade, while a smirking Starscream listened in. “It takes hours for him to stop crying.”

“Reminds me of our last debate on the council floor,” Starscream announced merrily, and beside him, Optimus Prime scoffed. All the while, Starscream kept eyeing Megatron like one would a wily snake-in-the-grass, but watching him holding and tending after the tiny sparkling was truly disarming.

Rodimus had ceased the funny faces, and was now rummaging through a pile of toys, all of them made by Brainstorm. There was one in particular he was looking for, and Rodimus kept looking up and grinning over at Optimus Prime.

"Do you think he is still upset with me about assigning Megatron to his ship?" Optimus Prime asked, more to himself than anyone else, though Starscream's sharp, barking laugh was answer enough.

Optimus Prime kept hoping the day would end, and everyone would disperse, but it just kept getting worse and worse.

"Here it is!" and Rodimus hefted the item out of the toy box and set it down; a perfect replica of Optimus Prime's current alt-mode. There was an opening in the top, sparkling-sized, and with a small smile, Megatron allowed Rodimus to take Oppy and place him on the ground.

"Cheep!" said Oppy, recognizing his second favorite toy.

It was a common type of toy for sparklings, helping them learn to move both in robot mode and in their future alt mode, and was considered something of an educational prop. It was still insanely fun, and Oppy enthusiastically hopped up on the blue and red toy truck. Rolling forward, he plopped himself down into the opening, which was a control setup that allowed him to "drive" the truck using his mobility gluteal. After he settled inside, only his optics and audials were visible, as the rest of him was hidden inside the toy truck. 

...and he was off!

The little replica of Optimus Prime's truck mode began zooming around the room, much to the delight of everyone not named Optimus Prime. "Look at him go," one of the delegates laughed, and Optimus Prime winced when several of them pointed in his direction.

"You are sulking again," Ultra Magnus said, offering Optimus a sympathetic smile.

"I don't sulk," Optimus Prime repeated.

But it wasn't true, and when a flash of gold stood poised in the doorway - the Mistress of Flame had heard the commotion and wanted to see the infant Prime - Optimus Prime's shoulders scrunched a little further.

Especially when Oppy came roaring past him, barely missing the Mistress's pede (to her delight) only to bonk into the leg of Ultra Magnus' table. Magnus reached down and hefted the toy truck, fondly tickled the little sparklet's nearest audial, and then set him back down, pointed in the opposite direction.

Oppy zoomed off, leaving a trail of excited peeps in his wake. His optics narrowed and he had such a look of concentration on his face as he went searching for bad guys to run over. Best of all, the toy truck's horn was an exact replica of Optimus Prime's, complete with bassy-sounding honk, of which little Oppy couldn't seem to get enough of.

It meant everyone knew where Oppy was at all times, though losing him wasn't much of a worry, as Oppy was still learning how to drive. He bounced off walls, got stuck under chairs, and in general had to be escorted around the room.

For his part, Rodimus was having the time of his life. With Megatron distracted, Rodimus was now the leading co-captain, at least for awhile, and he finally felt like he had a decent amount of actual control over his own damned ship.

Rodimus was pacing little Oppy, moving any troublesome chairs out of his way. He had the happiest expression on his face, and it wasn't just because Oppy was so incredibly happy. It was because he had one bright optic on Megatron, the other on his Prime … and indeed, Rodimus was just _loving_ the look on Optimus Prime’s face … _teach you to saddle me with your million year old mistakes…!_

Though Rodimus wasn't the only one thoroughly enjoying the moment.

"Wow," said Starscream, watching as Oppy ran full throttle into the far wall, backed up, and ran into the wall again. "He really is you. He drives like you and _everything,"_ and Starscream's face was almost unrecognizable for his massive grin, an expression rarely seen on the quarrelsome seeker. Truly, nothing brought mechs together better than a painfully adorable sparkling.

Even better, Optimus Prime was sulking behind his mask, and everyone knew it.

 

 


	10. Bittersweet Symphony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the end is nigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: cannon character deaths, sort of.

**Back on Earth…**

Appearances were important.

No one knew this better than Starscream, and so he strode into the Nemesis like he already owned it. His two squeaking trine mates were tucked safe in his arms and he warded off any curious louts with a harsh look … the most dangerous expression he possessed.

Starscream knew his cute armful — and make no mistake Thunders and ‘Warp were exhibiting lethal levels of cuteness — might undermine his image as a powerful leader, and so he refused to let anyone near him. 

 _Approach me and **die** ,_ screamed Starscream’s face and body language. It was a warning everyone took to spark and so Starscream appeared quite the paradoxical mechanism, walking through the Nemesis so proud and foreboding whilst covered in squeaky seekerlets.

For his part, ‘Warp seemed disappointed with the lack of amusing distractions. He burrowed into Starscream’s arms while Thunders seemed relieved. Their two sets of little wing-nubs relaxed and both seekerlets settled back into Starscream’s arms.

Starscream was in luck as most of the corridors were clear. Even better, he was happy to note all the sulking and smothered anger in the scant few mechs he did see; those that saw him coming and ducked the other way. He ignored them, but their simmering unhappiness warmed his spark and put a spring in his step. It seemed he hadn’t missed Megatron’s overthrow yet and he was already plotting his next move, though it all seemed simple enough.

 _I’ll just rile these surly malcontents into an almighty uproar and have at Glorious Leader!_   _I will be ruler of the Decepticons by nightfall!  ..._ and Starscream was starting to feel rather enthused as he headed towards the first, most important stop on his list of things to do today, which looked something like:

  1. Restore my idiot trine
  2. Rouse the rabble
  3. Defeat that pompous fool, Megatron!
  4. **TAKE MY RIGHTFUL PLACE AS LEADER THE DECEPTICONS!!!**
  5. Order punch and pie for coronation.



Starscream’s wings were set high and proud as he arrived at the medical bay. The doors flew open and he strode in like a lord returning to inspect the help. It helped that his successful defeat of the previous Megatron was boosting his courage.

_Wharp!_

Little ‘Warp was back on his helm, but Starscream didn’t bother to protest. The end of his stint as babysitter was nigh, which was all that mattered right now.  Spotting Hook at the back of the sizable medbay, he turned and headed that direction, ex-venting a sigh of relief.

“Can you fix them yet?” demanded Starscream, who wasn’t prepared to accept no for an answer. He was holding Thunders in his arms and ‘Warp was perched on his helm. He’d walked through the entire medbay as such, and if he looked silly, no one dared mention it.

“Not yet,” said Hook, his expression more dour than usual. “Things have been too crazy. The last I heard, Soundwave was monitoring the Autobots in hope of stealing the cure from them.”

“Fine, fine, whatever. Just so long as these two are first in line… for the good of the Decepticons,” said Starscream. But when he tried to hand over his little disasters — presumably to spend the rest of their time as seekerlets nestled within an incubator — Hook refused to take them.

“No, you hold them.  I’m busy right now,” and as Hook stepped away he pointed at something in the far corner.

Instantly irritated to be so dismissed, Starscream nevertheless followed Hook’s haughty gesture, only to reel back in shock. Megatron was sitting on one of the med slabs! Starscream hissed when he realized that not only was Megatron sitting there all hale and hearty, but Soundwave was standing with him.

“Things moved fast while you were gone,” said Hook, and his tone was darker than normal. It echoed the anger still simmering throughout the Nemesis.

Starscream didn’t notice, too consumed by the scene in front of him. He could see Soundwave was hunched over in a stance he interpreted as protective, though Starscream couldn’t see much of him for Megatron’s bulk in the way. The absolute worst was that the bastard was free of any stasis cuffs and was in the midst of being repaired; hence the reason Hook was so busy.

The implications were horrifying and Starscream’s wings lashed to a furious slant. _I’ve only been gone a few hours!_ _How in the name of the Allspark has that pompous fool managed to regain control of these glitches so damned fast?!_

Hook was nursing a similar scowl as he was sporting several brand new dents. He wasn’t happy how things had turned out either, and after a moment’s consideration, took it upon himself to send Starscream a data-burst recording of the battle that occurred after the Decepticons had returned to the _Nemesis_.

The recording was crystal-clear, taken from the base’s internal security cameras. Starscream tore through the visuals while the dour Hook offered commentary, though he kept his vocalizer low so that it wouldn’t carry to Glorious Leader’s audials.

“Megatron ordered everyone to the cargo bay, and then tore into us as soon as we made it back to base after his epic failure. He was foaming at the intakes,” said Hook, sniffing in distaste for the memory.

“Keeping everyone together when they were so torqued was his first mistake,” grumbled Starscream, and Hook nodded agreement.

Under normal circumstances, Megatron would have separated everyone after such a devastating loss, distracting them with necessary tasks and punishing any scapegoats he could, even for the flimsiest of reasons. As soon as mechs had a chance to cool off, Megatron would approach the squad leaders individually and smooth things over with them.

That hadn’t happened, no surprise there.

“Megatron started busting up the Nemesis, just like he always does and then our team gets to clean up his mess. That was bad enough, but then he started saying things to Scrapper — rude things that _weren’t_ true — and Scrapper was incensed and said things back, things that _were_ true and Megatron started attacking him and we all backed Scrapper, but Megatron wouldn’t stop.”

The recording showed as much. Starscream watched the recording in his HUD as Megatron and Scrapper roared in each other’s faces. Then Megatron’s fists started flying as he abused absolutely everyone while refusing to acknowledge his own part in the disaster. His raging was so stupidly one-sided as to be comically breathtaking.

It was also the last straw.

The Constructicons started the counter-attack, and the Combaticons were right behind them. A few breems into the fight and the Stunticons joined in, still smarting from the defeat. But none of the teams could combine in the cramped confines of the Nemesis, to their disadvantage. In a straight fight Megatron was in his element, and that was never more apparent than in the recording. For although he was taking plenty of damage, he was still handling everyone well enough, to the point that defeat seemed inevitable.

It was Soundwave who’d turned the tide.

“He came up behind Megatron,” said Hook as he tapped at his wrist display, “and did something to him. It was as if he’d forgotten how to fight, at least for a little while. It was enough. We beat his sorry aft _down._ We were dragging him to the prisoner block for some real fun when he went into a grand mal seizure.”

Starscream scowled. "He was faking," and he was about to point out that such injury shouldn’t even matter anyway as killing Megatron was the _whole fragging point_ , but Hook cut him off before he could get started.

“No, he wasn’t faking, actually. He was bleeding energon out his mouth and optics,” said Hook, while pointing at his own mouth for emphasis. “No one cared — we were still going to kill him — but it was a distraction. Then Shockwave arrived through the space bridge with the Rainmakers.”

“You can’t be serious,” and the _screel_ of Starscream's grinding denta was audible over the roar of his internal fans. His hatred ran hot within him and his sparklings cuddled closer to enjoy the warmth radiating from his frame. They peeped happily, having had no understanding of his ire.

“Blasterfire was exchanged and Shockwave’s troops started dropping, but Megs woke up and rallied during the fight. He snagged Ravage and Soundwave folded like a cheap solar sail. He turned on us and backed Megatron and Shockwave to save his cassette.”

“Shockwave is still here?” asked Starscream as he fingered his null rays. If the mutiny was already over ... well that was just his luck, wasn't it? But at least he could take it up with Shockwave directly. He would love the opportunity to give that damned fool a piece of his mind and also, both null rays.

“No,” Hook sniffed, looking peeved. “He took all the scans we had of the quantum weapon and left right after. He didn’t even offer to help with repairs.”

By then Starscream's wings were shaking. “What do you want to bet that was all Shockwave wanted? He just wanted his precious data and to hell with the rest of us.” At the same time, still perched on Starscream’s helm and snuggled in his arms, his two seekerlets finally realized something was wrong. They gave him sad looks and started patting him with their arm-nubs.

It was a terrible end to the story and Starscream ground his denta for frustration. He didn't even notice the little pats from his concerned trine mates, too upset for the bigger picture. This meant Megatron was still in charge and an easy opportunity to dethrone him was lost. Beneath his rage, he was spark-broken. He was certain if he'd been there he would have turned the tide.

_Why is everyone so damned useless?! Why am I the only one who gets things done around here? If any of the others were worth a rusty bolt, Megatron would be dead! How could the mutiny fail when everyone and their cat was against Glorious Leader?!_

Starscream’s frustration peaked and then broke on the rock that was his reality. Then the inevitable depression started. His wings began to sink downward, matching the sad lines at his mouth.  _What rotten luck to have been absent…_

“Megatron refused to release Ravage. He demanded medical care before complying with Soundwave’s demands. But when we started operating, we realized what Megatron’s issue was and corrected it.”

Starscream’s helm cocked. “Issue?”

“I have to get back to my patient,” said Hook, waving Starscream off.

It seemed he remembered that he was crossing the line by sharing such personal information. Especially since Glorious Leader was still in charge and would punish such impropriety. And so Hook refused to elaborate. He turned away from Starscream, even going so far as to turn his back on all the hissed questions. Not a full insult, but it wasn’t respectful either.

Starscream wasn’t keen to accept that. His null rays warmed, but he commanded so little in the way of respect from these glitches that he didn't dare force the matter, not with the rest of the Constructicons nearby.

And so Hook strode away unchallenged, leaving Starscream standing alone with his shattered ambitions and empty rage … and just like that, it seemed everything went back to what passed as normal amongst the Decepticons.

 

***

It was roughly two hours after had Optimus vanished when the quantum weapon stopped feasting on downtown Seattle.

The tempest ended as it began; a sudden transition from insatiable gluttony to bulging-tummy satisfaction. The gaping maw closed and the lightening-arms dropped everything they’d been dragging: cars, light-poles, metal signs, electrical wiring, stop signs, bicycles, Bumblebee.  The quantum weapon cast them aside with all the formality of a toddler deciding that dinnertime was _over_.

There was a moment of silence, of contemplation. Three blocks away, a single surviving cockroach scuttled out of its hidey-hole and breathed a sigh of relief ... only to be squished flat by a fleeing Bumblebee, who’d ventured too close when scouting the area.

The moment passed, and then the quantum weapon began to twitch. Its metal frame stretched and strained as if the weapon was testing the limits of mobility. It encountered resistance and settled back on the platform.

 _Hmmm_?

Then the weapon seemed to recognize the problem and surged against the metal latches chaining it to the platform. Lightening-arms pushed against the staging stand and the latches began to give, one by one. After ripping itself from its moorings, the dread weapon floated upwards, its lightening-arms drifting wide.

The lightening-arms swirled around the radial dish that comprised the main body, whose surfaces began to glow with a brilliant blue-white light. Strange, electric-like pulses crossed its surface and then the dish curved backwards to became as a bell. The creature twisted in midair until it was upside-down, or in its own estimation, right-side up.

Lightening-arms gathered at the base, trailing behind it, and the bell itself began to undulate. That propelled the weapon forward and it seemed to dance as it moved, for who wouldn’t love flying?

It was awesome, three tentacles way, way up!

To anyone close enough to watch, it became obvious that it was leaving — skedaddling even! — the planet of its birth. Floating upwards, the creature was heading for the stars and everyone seemed agreeable to let the damned thing leave in peace.

Just … _go_.

As it breached the lower atmosphere, it seemed to take its final shape, which resembled an interstellar jellyfish. It was the glorious birth of a brand new species, a being so unique in shape as to be traceable back to the blue planet known as Earth.

So sayeth Perceptor, as it was he who first recognized the little bumps on its base as buds — having combed through CNA samples from ground zero — and also confirmed the creature had asexual replication capabilities, thanks to various molds and bacteria on its surface during conception.

And Perceptor was saying it to a wide-eyed audience of local and national media, standing as he was behind a hastily-constructed podium outside the Ark, while trying not to blink as masses of press camera flashes went off continuously _flash-flash-flash_ all aimed at his face, while holding a squirmy and very squeaky Inferno.

The impromptu press conference was going rather well, considering how unprepared Perceptor was when handed the assignment. He had just finished turning over a modified recovery pod (along with hastily written instruction manual) to an impressed-looking First Aid when Prowl had pounced on him.

Prowl had handed Percy the sparkling Inferno in a distracted sort of way while ordering him to “go out and speak to the human media” which were swarming outside the Ark and “do what you can to keep our human allies from nuking Seattle.”

 “—getting our asses nuked sucks, yo!” shouted Blaster over internal comms, to the nervous cheers and spark-felt hallelujahs from the rest of the Autobots.

It was a fair concern. Currently the USA military was converging and holding position on the outskirts of Seattle, comprised of several battle Jaeger units under the command of Marissa Fairborne. Her particular unit had nuclear capabilities (a holdover from the dreadful period of time when they were all that stood between the Earth and Megatron’s genocidal plans) and were well known for their itchy trigger fingers.

_Oh dear._

And so Perceptor waded into the quagmire outside and did his best to inject the thoughtful calm of science into the otherwise panicky national dialogue. He was trying to share what he knew about the quantum creature with the media, but sparkling Inferno kept stealing the show.

Little Inferno was roundish and his various nubs were coming in quite nicely; he had little fingers and was putting them to good use. One nub was stuffed into his mouth while the other kept grabbing for Percy’s nasal sensor or alternatively his mouth, depending on which was more interesting at the moment, and then there was the squeaking.

“I strongly advise the POTUS and all military officials — cough, ack! Inferno please! — to consider allowing this new creation to leave the planet without further attempts to engage in any sort of military confrontation. This would comprise a peaceful resolution to this conflict, one which benefits both sides.”

“–squeak-squeak—CHIRP!—squeak-squeak–”

“Further, should any conflicts arise with the creature, caution and restraint must be exercised as the extent of this creation’s abilities is unknown to science — tunng Inferno, neeth my tunng plees! — and the dangers of continued aggression without any idea of the consequences could prove disastrous. Once again, I urge letting the creature leave without interference.”

“–cheep-squeak-squeak-squeak-peep-peep–”

Inferno’s noisy cheeps and beeps matched Perceptor’s speech word for word. His grabby nubs, huge optics, and enthusiasm for noise combined with his exuberant flailing triggered the ‘omg is babby’ instinct in the gathered humans, to the point that they forgot to keep to their question cards.

“Is that a baby Cybertronian, Mr. Perceptor?” one of the reporters asked, and Percy had to pause in his scientific treatise on interstellar jellyfish to explain the Cybertronian equivalent of the birds and the bees. He tried to steer the press meeting back to Pertinent Matters of Science, but the sparkling questions kept coming, until one of the reporters finally asked something a little more appropriate.

“Mr. Perceptor, what do you think this new species should be called?”

Perceptor blinked — he hadn’t given the matter any thought — and was just about to offer up something scientifically appropriate when Huffer beat him to it.  Seeing his chance, Huffer leaped forward and grabbed Percy’s microphone. Huffer braced a foot up against Percy to keep him back and then turned to the breathless human horde and shouted, “We are calling it a Mega-roid!”

Perceptor looked befuddled as he fought Huffer for the mic. “I am quite certain that is not a scientifically acceptable name!”

“—As in, a huge pain in the tailpipe!”

“peep-peep—SQUEAK!”

Meanwhile, back at ground zero, the search for Optimus Prime was well underway. Jazz was already out in the field, poking through the rubble now that the Mega-roid had abandoned ground level. He and his team had already combed the city proper for an adult-sized Prime and had come up empty-handed.

Prowl and Jazz had a rather panicky round-table over internal comms and decided to tackle the problem from different angles. Prowl assumed the Decepticons had taken Prime and was commanding a strike team to respond, while Jazz assumed that Prime had been tagged by the quantum weapon, which meant search attempts needed to be focused more on the micro level.

Prowl was keeping tabs on everyone through internal comms, demanding open comm-lines with Command and all squad leaders. For someone as patient as him, he was quick to demand updates.

“Anything to report yet, Jazz?”

“Baby, I just arrived,” laughed Jazz into his comm-line. It was a strained sound though, and Prowl took the hint.

The comm-line went quiet and Jazz returned his attention to his search. He was standing on the weapon’s platform, alternating between calling Optimus Prime’s name and then making a sharp, trilling sound; a noise that a sparkling would instinctively respond to like a penguin chick answering a returning adult...

…and Jazz wasn’t alone.

A mass of Seattleites had gotten wind that not only was Optimus Prime missing, but that he might have been regressed into a ‘baby robot’ during the attack. They had turned up in droves and were helping scour the wreckage, even to the point of ignoring emergency responder commands to leave the danger zone. Some of them were even trying to mimic Jazz's calls, with hilarious results. It was all rather spark-warming to Jazz, however futile.

Little did they know that Optimus Prime was well out of reach; currently traveling between dimensions.

 

***

There was no transition.

No flash of light, or time spent in flailing in a tunnel, or anything of that nature.

One moment Optimus Prime was squeezing Megatron’s servo in farewell and stepping onto Brainstorm’s teleporter pad — whilst Rodimus comforted a sobbing Ultra Magnus who was dabbing at his optics and clutching a red and blue toy truck while a farewell party blared in the background, complete with a banner that read ‘they grow so fast’ — and the next moment found Optimus standing in the heart of Seattle.

Optimus blinked and his battle protocols roared to the forefront of his processor. He dropped into a crouch and reached for his missing blaster, but there was no sign of the quantum weapon, or the Decepticons. There was only street after street of rubble and crumbled buildings. Everything looked quite the mess, but in the distance he could see that the rest of the city had power.

That was a good sign.

Then a glimmer caught his attention and Optimus looked up high in the sky, marveling at what he saw. The Mega-roid, which appeared less a monstrosity and more a living creature, was floating up and away. It vaguely resembled one of earth’s jellyfish, specifically the Portuguese man o' war, assuming said jellyfish was made of dark metal and energy. It was even rather majestic-looking, now that it wasn’t trying to wolf down Seattle. Best of all, it was clearly of a mind to be elsewhere, to the relief of absolutely everyone.

Optimus tapped into the local news channels and was relieved to find that cooler heads had prevailed among the humans, due in part to Perceptor’s calming influence. That meant no one was hindering the creature’s departure, which ended the disaster on a high note as — except for that one unlucky cockroach — no one had lost their lives.

Optimus dropped his hands to his hips and rumbled deep in his chest, pleased for the peaceful resolution. He tracked the Mega-roid’s progress for a moment, admiring its maiden flight while he waited for his internal communication systems to connect to the Autobot’s signals.

Knowing how diligent Blaster was at keeping an optic on things, Optimus was certain it wouldn’t be long before—

“—Optimus!”

Blaster’s exuberant voice exploded into Optimus’ comm-line with all the finesse of a heavily loaded freight train overflowing with jive. “Good to see you back, my mech! Are you all right? What the frag happened?! Everyone is _freakin’_ up in here!”

“Hello, Blaster,” replied Optimus, dismissing the blinking icon as Blaster had found him before he’d connected. “That is a long story, but I am fine.”

Better than fine, perhaps.

The time it had taken Optimus’ frame to develop into an adult state had been the most comfortable, supportive time in memory. His subsequent mini-vacation as a sparklet had been spent with Megatron, Ultra Magnus, and Rodimus, and the kindness he experienced rekindled something his universe’s Megatron had all but smothered to death; his faith that anyone could be saved.

One way or another.

“Looking forward to hearing that story, but Prowl’s dinging me from out in the field. He wants to talk with you.”

“Patch him through,” commanded Optimus.

While waiting for the line to connect, Optimus watched the glowing dot (all he could see of the Mega-roid anymore) cross the boundary of his visual range and disappear. The blue skies seemed empty now, and yet the image of the newborn creature stayed with him.

The quantum weapon was meant to be an agent of mass destruction, rampaging in the heart of the city. And yet the creature had transcended its vile purpose. Instead of succumbing to its core programming, it had surpassed its circumstances to transform itself into something beautiful. The patience and mercy offered to the creature — however unintentional — had given it enough time to stabilize, and now it was well on its way to a new life amongst the stars.

Optimus was smiling behind his battle mask, pleased by the thought, when a commotion at his pedes caught his attention. “We found him!” someone shouted, and Optimus looked down to see a gaggle of human rescuers swarming his pedes.

A seven-year-old human waved up at Optimus, a bright figure in a yellow safety vest with the words “robot rescuer” printed on it in sharpie. Her hair was weaved into tight little braids with white ribbons and her smile was a mile long. “You’re the biggest baby robot I ever seen!” she called up to him as her mother studiously reported Optimus Prime’s position to the authorities.

Optimus smiled down at the beaming youngster currently hugging his pede. “That is because I am no longer a protoform. This is my adult size. However, would you believe that for a short time I was as small as you?”

The little girl shook her head in wonder and was about to pepper him with more questions when her mother interrupted. “The authorities are contacting your people now,” she called up to him.

Optimus decided not to mention he was already in contact with the Ark, and simply thanked her instead. The humans were twenty steps behind the Autobots thanks to their simpler technology, but that was neither here nor there. They were inventive and industrious for what they had, and never failed to charm.

Case in point … 

The little girl at his pedes called up to him, asking, “Can I come with you and see more baby robots?” Thankfully her mother scooped her up and headed off, sparing Optimus from having to decline her request. He watched them leave, hearing the mother coaching her daughter to wave goodbye, and then his comms crackled.

A relieved-sounding Prowl joined the line. “Optimus! Please report your position and status.”

“At the original landing point and in excellent health."

After dutifully reporting in, Optimus could hear Prowl barking orders in the background, responding to some key piece of stolen intelligence on the enemy, and from the sound of things Prowl was organizing a counter-attack. Optimus wasn’t surprised that Prowl was powering on without him. The black and white was never one to miss an opportunity, and not for the first time did Optimus thank Primus for his competent command staff.

“Prowl, I want a full report,” commanded Optimus. Turning, he carefully stepped around the milling humans, all the while returning any greetings from them with kind words. He crossed the street and stepped over the yellow police barricades that cordoned off the sections of the city too dangerous for civilians.

Downtown Seattle was still in shambles, and Optimus noted with concern that the rubble was rife with the glowing purple globules, strewn over the ground. They were being gathered up and packaged in plastic to be disposed of by the military, using small drones for the dangerous work. A few brave souls amongst them were using battery-powered fans to blow the globules into plastic containers for safety.

Prowl brought Optimus up to speed and then confirmed that he was currently mid-mission. Most of the Autobots were being mobilized in a serious assault on the uncovered Decepticon base.

“Soundwave contacted us and offered to give us the location of the Decepticon base, including all passcodes,” Prowl reported.

“In exchange for?”

“Aid in defeating Megatron, along with full amnesty and freedom for all surviving Decepticons, no matter their crimes,” Prowl said. His voice sounded neutral, though Optimus could hear other Autobots grumbling denials in the background.

“I am not inclined to accept that arrangement,” said Optimus, echoing the sentiment. Although he intended to push back on the ‘death with no exceptions’ policy, there was one thing that everyone agreed upon and that was dealing firmly with the Decepticons, especially the worst of them.

Full amnesty was out of the question.

“Neither was I,” Prowl said, “but it ended up being a moot point. Jazz managed to piggyback a tracing signal on Soundwave's transmission. We were able to trace it back to the source, confirmed to be a Decepticon ship off the coast. I have hand-picked a strike team and we are preparing to leave.”

Optimus perked up. “Hold the shuttle—”

“Skyfire,” corrected Prowl, and Optimus could hear the disapproval in his voice, could tell Prowl was just about to protest, but Optimus interrupted him before he could start quoting the new rulebook.

“—hold Skyfire until I arrive. I am taking command of the infiltration team. I intend to deal with Megatron myself.”

Then a flicker of light caught Optimus’ eye. He tuned out Prowl’s dry lecture regarding the importance of protocol to watch as one of the military’s little plastic drones packaged up more of the glowing purple globules.

Optimus blinked.

His helm tilted as recent experiences coalesced to spark the first inklings of an idea. He looked heavenward as if to catch a glimpse of the new life floating free, and then back down at the globules. His eyes grew distant as he remembered the joy of snuggling with his adopted caretakers. He relished the memories of zooming around their quarters in a blue and red toy truck, and considered the sense of renewal and restoration that had come with being reborn.

“Prowl,” said Optimus with a small smile, “I have an idea.”

*******

Back on the Nemesis, Starscream was fuming.

The medbay was still almost empty, and Starscream was left glaring at Megatron’s back plates, consumed with rage. His face twisted with the hatred of a thousand fiery suns. If optics were lasers, Megatron would be a molten pile of scrap … but that wasn’t an option anymore.

Not if Megatron and Soundwave had reconciled, which he assumed was the case as they were conversing so close together. It wouldn’t be the first time that Megatron had upset and then appeased Soundwave, coaxing him back into his corner.

There was something else, though.

Soundwave was hovering close to Megatron and that might have been normal, except for the electric tension between the two.  If they had worked out their differences, why was Megatron’s back so … tense?

 _At least Soundwave is making him work for it,_ thought Starscream, however cold comfort that thought was. There seemed nothing left but to announce himself, and he took a tense step forward. He was trying to gauge the situation, his resentment simmering, and then his spark sank ever lower in his chest. He’d have hoped that Megatron would have at least been maimed after his dreadful failure.

No such luck.

Megatron’s repairs appeared almost complete, and Starscream took another cautious step, and that brought Megatron into better view. It also brought Soundwave’s frame into his line of sight, and the downward slant of Soundwave’s eyes and his posture spoke volumes, even with his concealing face mask.

Soundwave was torqued … and what Starscream had taken as protective hovering was not directed at Megatron at all. It was pointed at his precious cassette, currently trapped in Megatron’s fist.

_What the frag?_

Ravage was still a kitten and Megatron was holding her to his chest. His grip was gentle, but the kitten was squirming and looked unhappy, with many teeny mews escaping between Megatron’s black fingers. Soundwave looked equally unhappy, and it was then that Starscream realized what he was actually seeing.

“Oh my,” Starscream breathed.

Soundwave seemed distraught that Glorious Leader was still holding Ravage, on account of the discreet but very lethal blaster he was holding _directly to Megatron’s fore-helm.  
_

Soundwave must have seen Starscream’s sudden excitement; must have sensed the flare of murderous intentions, must have heard the mental offer of help in murdering Megatron … as Soundwave opened a direct com-link with Starscream. The first thing to come through from Soundwave was a refusal to accept that offer of help, including a dire warning not to engage and thus hinder the rescue of little Ravage. The second was a data-burst including medical scans, and then Starscream had his answer, the one Hook wouldn’t dare give him.

_Rust infection._

Starscream’s optics narrowed in disdain as he swiftly flicked through the myriad scans of Megatron’s processor, the first in thousands of vorns. Normally Megatron guarded his processors with his life.

At first Starscream scoffed at the close-up visuals of a tiny fleck of foreign matter in Megatron’s processing core, at least until the scan panned back to reveal the massive, sprawling rust infection that had originated from it.

 _Bombshell attempted to take control of the Decepticons some vorns ago_ , Starscream remembered, tuning out the quiet drone of Megatron’s voice, still aimed at Soundwave and too low to make out from his position. Starscream thumbed through the scans and confirmed the tiny speck was indeed the remains of a mind-control device that had malfunctioned, and thus remained undetected.

_Of course Bombshell kept his mouth shut after Megatron put him back in his place. Bad enough to have failed to overthrow him, but to admit without prompting that he had managed to sneak a mind-control device into Megatron’s most personal of spaces?_

Bombshell wasn’t that stupid.

Then, thanks to outside contaminants collected on its journey, the malfunctioning device had begun to rust. The rust infection spread throughout Megatron’s processor, damaging the part of him that would have governed empathy and higher thinking. _Whatever! None of this matters_ , realized Starscream, after he’d fitted the new information into the context of the greater picture. It didn’t change the fact that Megatron was still in dire need of being murdered.

 _Why did you send this to me? Why do you think this matters? It doesn’t matter! I don’t care about his reasons. This changes nothing. Glorious Leader is still a bastard that needs removing,_ thought Starscream.

He aimed those thoughts at Soundwave and it was true that he was unmoved. He was only sorry that Megatron had snapped right back after surgery, having gone back to his normal, competent self. Without Starscream around to rally the rabble, Megatron was quelling the dangerous storm around him, including the current threat from Soundwave.

Starscream pieced it all together and an incredulous look filled his features. _Surely this isn’t a reasonable excuse for Megatron’s vile behavior!? Surely you will help me hold this bastard accountable for what he’s done?!_

But Soundwave was wavering, at least a little, seeming to succumb to Megatron’s charismatic words, and judging from the way things were going, Glorious Leader’s return to power seemed inevitable. Especially when Starscream was forced to back away. Soundwave’s insistence that he not interfere was escalating into subtle threats against his person, and that wasn’t a place that Starscream wanted to be.

Lifting his arms in mock surrender, Starscream stepped back a few paces, while mouthing an offer to help in case his thoughts weren’t clear enough, an offer which Soundwave ignored, and that was when hope took a crash dive. The fact that Soundwave wasn’t accepting his mental offer to team up to murder Megatron and thus rescue his precious cassette, well it didn’t look good, and Soundwave was _still_ threatening him to back off.

With a soft groan, Starscream stepped back even further, giving them more room as Soundwave demanded. In doing so, he felt as if he was ensuring Megatron would succeed in defusing the volatile situation.

The entire encounter, Megatron never even acknowledged Starscream, as his full attention was aimed at Soundwave. He was the most critical mech to coax back to his side, right after Shockwave, who’d never left it.

 _And I am somewhere near the bottom, between metal scrap and subspace lint_ , Starscream thought, and once again he couldn’t believe his rotten luck. He’d lost his chance to rule the Decepticons because he’d been stuck _babysitting_.

Not understanding anything that was happening anymore, little Thunders just looked up at the fuming Starscream with sympathy and patted him again.

Skywarp just pointed at him and giggled.

***

 

“Drop the weapon, Soundwave,” demanded Megatron.

Megatron had the sense that everyone in the Medbay was watching their little drama, but Megatron’s eyes never left Soundwave’s visor, and within the cage of his fingers, Ravage was squirming. Well aware that Soundwave was experiencing everything the kitten was feeling, he did everything he could to calm the little one.

Behind him, Megatron could hear Starscream backing off, and he was certain that was thanks to Soundwave’s directives. He was well aware that Starscream was plotting his gruesome murder, but was directing all of his attention on Soundwave, who refused to remove his blaster.

The business end was still aimed at Megatron’s forehelm, and was sure to melt his processor into scrap if he couldn’t get Soundwave to back down. It didn’t help that he was still woozy from the surgery. His vision was fuzzy thanks to the pain-killers in his system, grudgingly given to him by Hook.

But Megatron forced himself to focus through the haze, desperate to save his own life. He could see how steady the business end of Soundwave’s blaster was, and knew the only reason the trigger wasn’t depressed yet was that he was still holding little Ravage in a tight grip.

A tight grip that was slowly easing into a much gentler hold as Megatron laid out his case in exacting detail. He took care to say all the right things, though Soundwave’s expression never changed; he really put his pede into it this time.

“Soundwave, this is senseless,” Megatron murmured again, keeping his voice low so that Starscream couldn’t hear. “I know you have seen the scans. I know you have seen the infection. You have confirmation that I was not responsible for my actions. I was _sick_ and didn’t know what I was doing.”

Soundwave didn’t move an iota. “Megatron … regrets his actions?”

“I do,” said Megatron instantly. “I regret my transgressions against you, and against my Decepticons. I swear to you I will make this right.”

Soundwave’s visor flashed, which was the first hint of movement from him since the standoff begin. “Megatron … regrets his actions towards Optimus Prime, towards the Autobots?”

“What do you mean—”

And then all of those memories came flooding back in a glorious rush as Megatron remembered the Big Push, remembered overrunning the Ark, and then he remembered batcher-fragging _Prime_ … and remembered what he’d _done_.

“I…”

But as Megatron looked back over his behavior, the main thing that stuck out was that he’d plowed the hell out of Prime’s various orifices in every way possible. Even better, he had recorded everything, absolutely everything, and for the rush of sheer glee straight from his spark, he almost laughed.

Soundwave’s visor flashed again. His grip on his blaster tightened almost imperceptibly, and in that instant Megatron knew better than to free Ravage, at least not right away. He knew Soundwave had sensed the truth — he had no regrets — and didn’t even bother pretending otherwise.

Soundwave knew the truth of him, and so Megatron didn’t bother to hide from culpability by blaming his illness, as he had for the rest of his faction. The infection may have started the slide, but Megatron had enjoyed the ride down immensely. The infection wasn’t the origin of his cruel streak; it had merely removed his iron sense of self-control.

Soundwave was well aware that he’d been nurturing his malicious side for some time. Several times Soundwave had tried to broach the subject, had tried to steer Megatron to clearer waters. Megatron had always apologized, had always offered excuses and explained away his behavior in ways easy to dismiss as his loyalist was so inclined to do. 

But now it was painfully clear that Megatron had no intention of becoming a better person, and so Megatron didn’t bother with such promises. Instead, he simply rededicated himself to the cause, acknowledging his complete lack of spark, but promising in the next breath to follow the code to the letter.

“You are my conscience, Soundwave,” said Megatron, and they both knew that was true because he really _was_ a sparkless monster. “I need you now more than ever.”

Megatron knew Soundwave wasn’t satisfied, but it would have to do. After his herculean effort to calm Soundwave, he felt in control enough to gently hand little Ravage back after a few last, pointed words.

The strained moment ended as Soundwave snapped the safety back on his blaster and cautiously stepped away. It had never budged until Ravage had been returned, and Soundwave nestled his precious kitten back into his dock, and then turned to leave.

Megatron released a breath he’d been holding for some time as Soundwave strode away. That retreating back-strut was stiff and harsh, and he knew it would be some time before his loyalist excused his intrusions. He still felt woozy and so remained seated at the edge of the med-berth while he contemplated his next moves.

Soundwave had been first on his list to recover, and the next was Starscream. In fact, the only reason Starscream wasn’t recovered first was that he hadn’t been around. Megatron wasn’t surprised that Starscream had rescued himself, even before his compatriots could figure out what had happened to him. Starscream was quite clever; a model Decepticon and a powerful asset.

Sliding off the med-table, Megatron threw his legs out to maintain his balance while mentally tracking Starscream’s position behind him. He knew Starscream was a decent few paces away, and he smoothed his expression into one of supreme confidence. He fluffed out and slicked back his armor at the same time; an unmistakable bid at flirtation. After the stress of the afternoon, he could use some attention from one of his two favorite distractions.

Megatron pulled in a deep breath, turned with a flourish, and then smirked at his second-in-command. “Starscream, welcome back … did you miss me?”

“Like a turbofox misses his fleas,” grumbled Starscream, too disappointed to bother lying through his denta. “ _Unfortunate_ that I wasn’t around in your most _desperate_ time of need.”

Starscream was pouting openly now, and seeing him so miserable warmed Megatron’s interface array.

“Indeed,” said Megatron with a wicked grin.

Megatron could tell this missed chance to dispose of him was bothering the hell out of Starscream, and he was more than willing to help direct that anger towards more fruitful places … except that Starscream wasn’t responding to his flirtations like he normally did?

Megatron tried again and was startled to encounter a particular viciousness instead, and worse, Starscream wouldn’t let him any nearer then the seeker could jet away from in a moment’s notice. Starscream remained out of touching range, those lovely wings unreachable.

Megatron’s brow furled.

More memories came rushing back … mhn, he really had indulged himself, hadn’t he? Those memories weren’t as deliciously vile as his ownership of Prime, but they were close. What a mess he’d made of things … _now how best to recover Starscream?_

Megatron drew himself up to his most imposing. He had decided to fall back on simple intimidation while he worked out a game plan, but before he could think of anything useful to say Starscream was already gone; out the same medbay exit as Soundwave.

 

***

 

“Soundwave!”

Starscream called for Soundwave, chasing after him. His long strides ate up the distance between them, and then he slid to a stop several wing-lengths away, the scrape of his metal heels on the floor a grating sound. They were far enough away from the Medbay now to speak freely, but Starscream was having trouble finding any words to say. Furious didn’t begin to describe how he felt, and he knew that Soundwave could feel the rage seething within his very spark.

Soundwave was still many paces ahead of Starscream, but he stopped at the sound of his name, his shoulders hunching as if ashamed. And there he stood, motionless, a bright blue against the grey of the Nemesis’ main corridor, with his face hidden.

_Wharp!_

Skywarp rematerialized atop Soundwave’s helm and tootled a happy greeting, which was answered by a subdued little mew from inside Soundwave’s sheltering hands.

Ravage was shaking, and Skywarp cheeped a few notes of concern. Then he rolled right on down Soundwave’s front, over the Decepticon brand on his chest — which was now missing? — and then Skywarp wiggled between Soundwave’s fingers and glomped onto the shivering kitten, initiating the standard seekerlet cuddle therapy.

“I had no other option,” said Soundwave, defending himself even as his shoulders slumped further. It was as if the whole of Cybertron lay heavy atop them.

Starscream wasn’t accepting that. “There is always another option, Soundwave! I have returned triumphant, and I say we go back in there and scrap that trash-heap Megatron once and for all!”

“Attempts to negotiate have failed,” continued Soundwave, ignoring Starscream’s offer out of hand, leaving Starscream blinking at the cryptic statement.

“Negotiate? With Megatron?” guessed Starscream, scowling for the thought. “Why bother? When has Megatron ever listened to anyone? No! You and I, we are going to deal with him ourselves, right here and right now! We must attack while the others are still reeling. If we time this right, we have a real chance to dispose of Megatron once and for all, and we have to take it!”

“And then?” asked Soundwave, his back still turned.

“Then I take my place as leader of the Decepticons! I will defeat the Autobots and under my leadership our victory will be assured! Then I will claim the very universe! I won’t stop until all bow down to me as supreme leader!”

Starscream could see it all in his mind’s eye … all the power, all the prestige, the endless hordes cheering his name and his countenance immortalized. Statues of him in every city across the universe, countless trillions serving his empire, his every word as law … it was _glorious_ and he knew the telepathic Soundwave could see it too.

Then Starscream remembered himself. He schooled his features, the sly, dreaming look vanishing from his face in a sparkbeat and added, “And equality for all, in accordance with the Decepticon Code.”

 _Some more equal than others_ … though Starscream followed that thought with the carrot he was certain would sway Soundwave to his side. “There is a place for you in my grand new order, Soundwave. A position of power, second only to me, of course.”

“The perfect Decepticon,” murmured Soundwave, his deep rumble echoing down the forlorn corridor. “That is what Megatron considers you.”

Soundwave’s voice sounded so haggard. So utterly broken. More of the same; that was what Starscream was promising him however unintentionally. Starscream couldn’t know how far Soundwave had fallen –-- or perhaps _risen_ –-- that such promises weren’t good enough anymore.

No more excuses.

“It’s the only thing our refuse bin of a leader ever got right,” said Starscream as he dropped his hands to his hips and affected a powerful pose, all the better to impress Soundwave into helping him.

“Frenzy,” Soundwave murmured into the air, addressing his cassette via comms. “The time is now. Commence operation: clean slate.”

Starscream fingered his null ray. “Soundwave?”

There was an explosion back the way they’d come, followed by a sharp, startled cry from within the medbay. A few moments later and Frenzy rounded the corner, crowing in triumph as he transformed and slotted back into Soundwave’s chest.

Then the power went out and all communications channels went down, plunging everyone into darkness and confusion. The emergency light systems blinked on, bathing everything in a red light.

Starscream startled when the red light revealed Soundwave was standing before him, having crossed the space between them in the blink of an optic. Stuttering in surprise for the intensity he was sensing from the blue spy, Starscream took the pro-offered Skywarp back from Soundwave.

After handing Skywarp back, Soundwave turned and began to run, leaving an incredulous Starscream behind.

“What have you done? —Soundwave!” shouted Starscream, but Soundwave didn’t slow, and ran even faster. Starscream stared after Soundwave, his mouth hanging open in shock ... no ... no! Whatever it was that he'd said to spook Soundwave, he didn’t mean it, he needed Soundwave!

_What the hell?_

“I’m serious about the second-in-command thing!” Starscream shouted after Soundwave, and then the blue spy turned the corner at a dead sprint, without so much as a backward glance.

 _Damn it Soundwave_ , Starscream thought as loudly as he could, _I am prepared to be generous! Reasonable!_   and he was certain that the telepathic Soundwave was listening, but there was no response.

For reasons of personal dignity, Starscream stifled a common sense urge to chase after Soundwave. He was no faltering flower, and chose to head back towards the medbay. He was confident in himself, and wanted to figure out what Soundwave was up to in case he could turn it against Megatron somehow.

As Starscream hurried back down the hall, he slapped at his wrist panel to try and log into the central computer, and was surprised again to find it down. That was when the sense that something was seriously wrong hit. Never one to shrink his duties unless it was to his advantage, Starscream charged through the medbay doors, only to slide to a halt an instant later.

_Oh._

Megatron was gone.

In his place was a tiny silver sparklet with massive optics. The tiny sparklet looked shocked, his little arm-nubs held out in front of him. He wiggled them in sheer disbelief and then peered up at Starscream from the floor. Megatron’s huge optics widened in recognition and then narrowed and he beeped demandingly at Starscream.

Towering over Megatron as he now was, Starscream was considering stomping him flat, sparklet or no, when images on the medbay side vid-screens caught his attention.

Autobots.

There were Autobots _everywhere_.

The Nemesis was under attack, but there were no alarms, no warning. _Soundwave knew they were coming,_ Starscream realized. His wings flared in a hot fury. _He shut down the warning systems! This could ruin everything!_

The Decepticons were being taken completely by surprise. Even worse, the Autobots were armed with flare guns that were shooting glowing … purple … and in that same instant Starscream realized that running was a real good plan after all. Leaving Megatron to his fate, Starscream turned to bolt, only to skid to a stop at the flash of blue and red plating that appeared out of nowhere.

Optimus Prime was standing in the entrance way.

Starscream froze at the flare gun pointed squarely at him. Inside his cockpit, Skywarp grabbed the sleeping Thundercracker and teleported them both onto Starscream’s helm, and started waving happy greetings. Little Thunders awoke from his nap with a startled “cheep” and clutched at Starscream’s helm.

Starscream raised his hands in surrender as a quirky, fearful smile flashed across his face. “You remember that time when I helped you after Megatron used you for—”

“I do,” interrupted Optimus Prime, and his optics were so serene. “That is why I am shooting you with _this_ instead of a true blaster.”

Starscream dived left when he should have dived right, and took the globule square in the chest. The effect was instantaneous. “Peep?” asked Skywarp, now face-to-face with little Screamer, who lived up to his name and started meeping as hard as he could meep. It wasn’t as impressive as it should be, which just made him want to outdo himself, and somehow he meeped even harder.

With a faint smile, Optimus stooped down and gently reached for the three seekerlets. “Easy now… you know I won’t harm you.”

Unsure about that, Skywarp tried to warp his little brothers away, but little Screamer was too contrary when he was upset. Screamer bonked ‘Warp off of him with a haughty arm-nub, and with a startled beep, ‘Warp canceled his teleport at the last instant.

Little Thunders squeaked at Screamer — _he’s_ _trying to rescue us, poopy head!_ — and in doing so gave Optimus enough time to wrap a modified stasis cuff around ‘Warp’s middle. It snapped shut and brought an end to ‘Warp’s mischief-making.

“Settle down,” Optimus ordered the colorful trio and began tucking the three squirrelly seekerlets into a special holding basket. There was a warm thermal blanket in the bottom, along with a few human-donated stuffed animals for good measure. It was designed to keep them safe and comfortable until they could be ferried to safety.

‘Warp and Screamer were the first into the container. They hugged each other, and thanks to Screamer's doomsday theatrics, there was much meepery. Little Thunders remained where he was and when Optimus reached down and cupped him, Thunders hugged his thumb. There was no fear there, and that warmed Optimus' spark.

“I am happy to see you, too,” said Optimus with a smile. He still remembered how kindly his little playmates had been with him, for the most part. Then he settled Thunders amidst his brothers. As soon as all three little seekerlets were nestled inside the container, he closed the top and Screamer’s frightened meepery cut off, so that silence could reign.

And yet the meeps continued …?

“Curious,” murmured Optimus and he began to follow the sound. The cries seemed to be coming from deeper inside the medbay, from a fourth sparklet who was too little to control himself anymore and Optimus began searching the medbay, using his sensitive audials to hone in on the youngster’s hiding place.

Watching those huge pedes on approach, little Megs was beside himself for fear, but for the life of him couldn’t hush up. He was hiding under a med berth with his little arm-nubs stuffed in his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to muffle the meeps escaping his little self because sparklings weren’t meant to be quiet.

Panicking, Megatron made a break for the door, rolling on his little mobility gluteal as hard as he could roll. But as tiny as he was, he was far too slow, and Optimus caught up to him with ease. Optimus Prime lifted him up, warm blue fingers snug around his middle, a kindly voice murmuring hushes and reassurance, even after everything he had _done_.

Megatron’s adult mind was still in congress, and he knew he was undone, knew he wasn’t bouncing back from this. He sucked in a deep and horrified breath, which was difficult as both arm-nubs were still in his mouth, and then had a flashback to his time spent as a fluffy mop of fur.

The Slagmaker’s meeps of horror were the stuff of legends.

 

***

 

**One Day Later…**

 

Back on the Ark, things were getting back to normal … which, all things considered, wasn’t very.

Today was no exception as out in the main hallway, Ironhide was marching towards the medbay with a happily cheeping Ratchet perched on his shoulder. That was abnormal by itself, but those happy chirps were joined by an audial-piercing screech of metal over metal as Ironhide dragged the twins behind him, the both of them latched onto him — one to each leg — much like enraged ferrets.

Ratchet’s peeps were barely discernible over the dragging sounds, and it was his presence that was the heart of the dispute. Everyone had agreed to take turns caring for the lil’ Hatchet, but only a day had passed and Perceptor was restoring the Autobot sparklets to their former ages. Now it was Ratchet’s turn to be returned to normal, but not everyone was thrilled.

“You said we were taking turns watching him!” Sideswipe howled at Ironhide, who seemed unmoved. “That means we were promised a turn,” Sunstreaker insisted for the thousandth time. “You watched him yesterday and now it’s our turn, so that means he comes and stays with us for a cycle.”

Ironhide just snorted and kept walking. He was resorting to dragging the twins behind him because he knew even if he threw them off, they would just latch on again. This had been going on for breems as they were upset for the blatant unfairness being shown them, though the rest of the Autobots assumed they were trying to delay the inevitable.

But the truth was a little more pure.

The twins weren’t shrinking away from their comeuppance, not really. In fact, Sideswipe was even looking forward to Ratchet’s reaction and the subsequent beat downs when ‘Sides inevitably refused to turn over all evidence of unspeakable cuteness to the Hatchet. It was just that currently Ratchet was beyond adorable and they really just wanted a chance to babysit him.

When would they ever get a chance like this again?

Never … that’s when.

“It’s not necessary anymore,” growled Ironhide. "Perceptor is finished restoring Inferno, and now it's Ratchet's turn to be returned to normal. No way are we delaying that just so you can babysit him," and on Ironhide's shoulder, the little red and white sparklet was snerking ferociously for all the weeping, as only a lil’ Hatchet could. 

“Everyone agreed!” howled Sideswipe, overcome with the unfairness of it all. His trusty vid-recorder was bouncing on the strap around his neck, still primed with blank film that wasn’t overflowing with cute moments. "I will never get another chance to have Ratchet pose in silly hats!"

“Beep!” agreed Ratchet, sounding satisfied.

Ratchet’s little self was all a-quiver. He was going to be back to normal within the next few hours and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on all the mechs that had babysat him … and the beatings would continue until all painfully adorable pictures of him were rounded up and deleted. There were just too many mechs here that would love having a recording of him sucking on his arm-nubs.

Especially Optimus Prime, who loved sparklets of all shapes and sizes. That blue and red bastard was one of those thrice-cursed mechs that actually loved it when old picture-vid-collections were pulled out and embarrassing photos shared ... hell, the fragger would even bring the tea and energon-cookies, damn his pure soul.

As such, though Ratchet hadn’t minded the cuddles, the pictures, those would have to go ... though Sideswipe couldn't disagree more. “We even wrote up shifts, remember?!” and Sideswipe just wouldn’t let it go. “Brainstorm made us all matching pajamas! We were going to have a pajama party!”

“What’s pajamas?” Ironhide asked suspiciously. It all sounded like silly tomfoolery to him and he wasn’t having any of it.

Ratchet agreed with a noisy “beep,” and pointed his little arm-nub in a ‘ _tally-ho’_ sort of gesture. He was all but bouncing up and down, and Ironhide aimed a fond smile his direction. Ironhide couldn’t wait to see the Hatchet shakedown the twins for incriminating-ly cute pictures either…

... so Ironhide could steal them for himself.

***

 

The attack on the Nemesis was a complete success.

All praise went to Perceptor, who had outdone himself in the precious few breems after returning back inside the Ark with little Inferno — and the time it took Optimus Prime to detail his idea — and before everyone busted aft out to the Nemesis to enact it. His modified flare guns worked beautifully, to the supreme happiness of the Autobots.

The Decepticons were less happy, and the Ark was filled with meepery of all types. Their adult minds would take some time to fade away, and until then almost everyone was horrified and inconsolable. Well, all but little Thunders and Skywarp, who were as cheerful as ever, especially as they were being reunited with an old friend.

Optimus had ferried them to the Medbay and then took his leave, as Megatron’s panicky meeps were a higher grade of meepry than any other sparklet, and he needed to be separated for the good of everyone. And so he carried little Megs off, snuggling him close and give him little bounces, which did nothing to sooth the new youngster.

Skyfire was out in the hallway and offered a light-sparked "good luck" to Optimus as he ducked to the side, letting the smaller Prime pass first.

"Thank you. I think I may need it," said Optimus ruefully and continued down the hall, little Meg's noisy meeps fading away the further Optimus went. Skyfire watched him leave and shook his helm.

Then Skyfire continued on his way to his appointment with First Aid. He ducked through the Medbay doors and walked through the Medbay proper, heading towards the far end. He could see rows upon rows of incubators against the back wall of the Medbay, and that was where he was heading, to pick up his new little family members.

Skyfire paused when he reached them, picking out the one that normally held the seekerlets of particular interest to him. The other incubators were filled with squeaky sparklets, all but the one he was accustomed to visiting, which was now empty.

"I have them here," called First Aid, and indeed, the three seekerlets that had been resting there were nestled in First Aid’s arms. There was a heavy rumble of pedes and a long shadow fell, and First Aid was dwarfed by the gentle scientist stooping down to greet his noisy armful.

Ratchet had approved Skyfire as a caretaker, but First Aid remained skeptical. “Are you sure you can handle all three of them? They can be very rambunctious, especially Skywarp. I have shut down his warp core, but it resets itself randomly, and he will regain his abilities periodically, no matter what I do.”

Skyfire nodded his understanding as he carefully accepted the three seekerlets with a smile. “I realize that, but they really do need to stay together. They still have their trine bonds and keeping them apart would be unkind.”

“That’s not what I asked,” insisted First Aid, though he had to admit the greater height that Skyfire brought to the seekerlet’s lives was very much appreciated. Screamer, ‘Warp, and little Thunders were trilling merrily now, their little wing-nubs flapping happily as they peered over the sky-high platform that Skyfire’s hands seemed to them, admiring the sheer vertical drop as only flight mechs could.

Even with First Aid’s skeptical questioning, Skyfire seemed unworried. "I assure you, I have everything under control."

Skyfire's smile only deepened when little Screamer seemed to recognize him. Starscream tootled up his shoulder like his aft was on fire, launching himself the last few inches to bonk into Skyfire’s face with squeaking-happy cheeps. Skyfire’s return greeting was a little more subdued, but no less happy. “Don’t worry, Star. I have you and your brothers now. Everything will be alright.”

Helms tilting for concern, ‘Warp and Thunders didn’t know what this was all about, as their regression was complete. But if Screamer trusted the strange adult, things had to be alright, and they started rolling for Skyfire’s shoulders too.

“Very well,” said First Aid, bowing to relentless seekerlet pressure, as removing them from Skyfire’s person wasn’t going to be easy now that he was accepted by all three. “I am sending you their checkup schedule, and with three of them you will be seeing me frequently, so that's good. Let me know if you need any assistance, and sure to update your daily logs as instructed. I _will_ be checking.”

“Of course,” agreed Skyfire.

Prowl pounced on First Aid a few moments later, and Skyfire took the opportunity to make his escape from the Medbay with his three brand-spanking-new seekerlets. As he stepped around them, Skyfire kept a close eye on Prowl and strained his audials. There were rumors that some of the command staff were trying to convince Optimus Prime to deactivate the worst of the Decepticons, and he knew that Starscream would be considered part of that group.

“As soon as the last of the Autobots have been restored, you are to destroy the re-aging device,” Prowl was instructing First Aid, but other than that, there seemed nothing odious planned.

Skyfire didn’t trust it. His fingers tightened protectively around Starscream as he murmured, “you three are safe with me, no matter what” and Skyfire meant that from the top of his helm to the bottom of his pedes. Then he stepped through the Medbay doors, leaving Prowl and company behind.

With a flick of his massive wings, Skyfire headed back towards the hanger that was his home in the Ark. His shoulders were covered in seekerlets, who were leaving a merry trail of squeaks in his wake.

 

***

 

The only Decepticon still at large was Soundwave and his cassettes.

Thanks to Jazz’s quick trace job, no promises of mercy or amnesty had been made, and so the Autobots were hard at work tracking Soundwave down. There were no rules in love and war, and several times they had honed in on his location, periodically clashing with him.

But they were as of yet unsuccessful at tagging Soundwave with one of the globules, and Blaster was in an absolute tizzy. He was certain it was only a matter of time and he was beyond excited at the possibility of adding Soundwave’s cadre of cassettes to his own. It would be a massive undertaking to raise them all himself, but he was game.

Cassettes were a rare and special class of transformer, and every single one of them was unspeakably precious, particularly to their carriers.

It was decided that Soundwave himself would be cared for by Jazz, who had already called dibs, citing a mutual respect and love of music. Everyone knew Jazz was good for it, and that merely left the small potatoes; corralling the squirrely Soundwave. There was nowhere Soundwave could flee to, not with the space-bridge destroyed and Earth firmly under Autobot protection.

Should be easy, right?

…but that was another story.

In the meantime, Optimus Prime had taken full responsibility for Megatron, over the protests of absolutely everyone for reasons that should be painfully obvious, but that no one really said aloud, out of respect for Beloved Leader. For some, there was a sense that this was less about Megatron's safety and more about Optimus Prime being saddled with the mech that had tormented him for months, without taking into consideration that Optimus wanted the responsibility.

The grumbles continued until they reached a crescendo that couldn’t be dismissed out of hand. Optimus Prime called an open meeting to address everyone's concerns, perfectly willing to speak openly on the subject. Many mechs felt strongly that he should abject that duty to someone else, to the point that Optimus felt he had to comply, even though his spark insisted otherwise.

But when Optimus Prime finally agreed and asked who would take little Megs instead, no one stepped up to take his place. As the seconds ticked by, everyone looked at everyone else and when they realized that _someone_ needed to volunteer, everyone started nominating _mechs other than themselves_ and the Prime just frowned and walked away.

“Meep,” said little Megs, unimpressed with all of this.

Optimus sighed and tucked the little one closer, ignoring all the smacks and slaps and mini-head-butts that attempting to cuddle Megs always provoked. For Lord Megatron, Leader of the Decepticons, Tyrant of the Universe, etc. etc. was not interested in cuddles.

Stopping in the hall, Optimus looked down at the murderous little sparklet and then back at the milling crowd of Autobots he’d left behind. They were spilling out of the conference room, snapping harsh things at each other, things like “why didn’t you” and “can’t believe that you” and Optimus shook his helm. In that moment, he knew that he was the only one responsible enough to take care of his vile enemy.

Not only that, but he was certain now that he was the only one who could do it with the right state of spark … and why was he willing and able to put aside all he’d suffered to do right by this angry little sparkling?

Because he was **Optimus fragging Prime,** that’s why.

 _Whomp-whomp-whomp,_ came dueling pairs of heavy pedes down the corridor, and Optimus turned towards the commotion, instinctively throwing a hand up to shield little Megs. Then Optimus stared as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker came roaring down the corridor. “He’s coming!” shouted Sunstreaker, while behind him Sideswipe was waving his hands over his head, shouting “Run away! Run away!”

Optimus perked up when he realized this was not some sort of Decepticon counter attack ... it was arguably something much worse.

Ratchet was cleaning house.

The quarrelsome medic had sworn on his favorite wrench that there would be no evidence of his time as a sparkling left unburnt; no more pictures of lil’ Ratchet giggling and splashing in his tub, no pictures of lil’ Ratchet dressed up in pretty human dresses with matching hats tootling down the corridors like the _sweet lil’ bot_ he wasn’t … and now he was making good on that grim promise.

Pouncing in a flash, Optimus waylaid Sideswipe while Sunstreaker continued to flee down the hall. “Behind me,” commanded the Prime, and Sideswipe obeyed just in time.

For there was wrath and thunder coming down the hall; a pounding of pedes that shook the walls as a restored Ratchet riding a fire-breathing Grimlock came roaring around the corner, the rest of the Dynobots charging in his wake.

Ratchet pulled the makeshift reins and Grimlock skidded to a stop. Ratchet leapt down and pointed after the fleeing Sunstreaker, shouting “ _those_ are the mechs that _hurt mummy_ by taking _his picture_ without asking!”

“Hurting mummy BAD! Pictures BAD!” roared an enraged Grimlock, his toothy mouth all agape. “Dynobots SMASH!” and with that battle cry, the Dynobots thundered past Ratchet; a living wave of saurian destruction. Their pedes shook the walls and floors as they stampeded past Optimus, determined to avenge the honor of their poor dear mum.

All the shaking forced little Megs to grab onto Optimus’ armature as the Dynobots passed, and after spotting the cowering Sideswipe, little Megs realized the situation and perked up. Little snot that he was, Megs rolled his way back to Optimus’ shoulder and started bouncing, trying to catch Ratchet’s attention and pointing at the hiding Sideswipe.

Megs was hoping Sideswipe would get squished like a bug by the Dynobots, but his devious plans were foiled when he was snatched back and firmly cuddled by Optimus in retaliation.

“Meep!” cried little Megs, now the recipient of many Prime cuddles. They were the best cuddles bar none, but still.

For his part, Ratchet was oblivious, too busy smirking for all the carnage. The party ambulance winked at Optimus and then snapped his fingers and pointed the two longest ones at Megs in a snarky greeting as he strode by. Ratchet was in a _fantastic_ mood, unaware of the cowering Sideswipe still hiding behind Prime’s thick back-plates. Ratchet disappeared around the corner, a skip in his steps, still chasing after the Dynobots who were chasing after the twins.

“Wow, thanks Prime,” whispered Sideswipe as he tried to wriggle past, only to be stopped by a powerful arm. Prime’s palm slapped the wall with power, the resulting _smack_ echoing around the hall as he caged Sideswipe in, keeping him from leaving.

Optimus Prime stood tall, looking down at Sideswipe with an intense expression, his stern visage undiminished by all the punches little Megs was raining on his face mask.

“Ratchet’s vid-stills, Sideswipe. Hand them over.”

“But–”

“Now,  Sideswipe.”

With a gulp, Sideswipe obeyed, handing the precious contraband over. Optimus Prime kept a stern optic on ‘Sides while carefully making a copy of the adorableness that was The Hatchet as a sparkling, and then added the disk to his secret stash of cuddle-material in his subspace.

Then Optimus handed the data disk back to an amazed Sideswipe.  “As you were,” said Optimus with a conspiring wink. “Keep in mind, I don't have copies and this never happened.”

“I swear on Sunny’s paintjob,” swore the awestruck Sideswipe as he raced away.

 

***

 

The next morning cycle was calmer, though it was the sort of calm that came before storms.

Optimus Prime was standing in the corridor outside his quarters, his back to the main corridor that led to the Ark's bridge. He was busy locking his door while murmuring soft words at the angry little sparklet perched on his shoulder. His efforts to sooth fell far short as little Megs was perpetually angry; an adorable destroyer of worlds.

Prowl, lurking in the corridor for just such an opportunity, caught sight of Optimus heading out for the morning shift. He pounced on him without delay. “Optimus, do you have a moment?”

Rubbing at his optics, Optimus surrendered to Prowl’s request and then smiled when Megs poofed out his armor and shook his little self. It was as if Megs was trying to look more presentable, which wasn’t possible unless toy tanks or maybe ribbons were involved.

“I was hoping we could have a discussion off the record,” and Prowl didn’t react when Megs aimed a few harsh meeps his direction, though the dislike was very mutual.

Then Jazz turned the corner and strode into their midst. Optimus greeted him warmly, and it wasn’t clear if Jazz had been invited to this unofficial meeting or if he was crashing the party, as either scenario tended to suit his style.

“Wow, you feeling okay, OP?” asked Jazz, taking in the drooping frames of both sparklet and caretaker. It was questionable if either Optimus or Megs had recharged during the night.

Optimus tried to smile, but it only made him look more bleary-eyed. “I am still alive, if that is what you are asking.” His announcement regarding not dying in the night was met with angry-sounding meeps, something to the tune of ‘ _not for lack of trying.’_

“For however long this peaceful interlude lasts,” said Prowl as he crossed his arms and Jazz leaned against the wall all casual-like, which signaled to Optimus that this was to be the topic for the morning’s unofficial meeting.

It was a source of contention between Optimus and his Command staff, one that had been brewing since the moment they'd returned triumphant from the Nemesis. Soundwave and his cassettes may have escaped justice, but the rest of Decepticons had been defeated and reverted to sparklets. With their back strut effectively broken, the Decepticon war machine was no more … or at least until they returned to their adult states and subsequently regained their memories.

That was a point Prowl had been harping on, over and over, with Jazz piping up to agree with him in the background. The two black and whites were of one mind on this, and it wasn’t just because they were bond-mates.

Prime’s plan had a serious flaw and that was what was going to happen when the Decepticons returned to their full sizes in three or so weeks. According to Prowl, the solution was simple, though applying said solution had some of the softer-sparked Autobots in an uproar, as Optimus Prime still clung to the idea that such drastic measures should not be needed.

It was a hard row to hoe.

Especially when little Megs was doing everything in his power to prove Prowl right. Two days after being regressed to a sparkling state, and Megatron was still in full possession of his mind, if not his frame. It was obvious to everyone that he was still a problem. There was a terrible hatred pouring out of his huge eyes, expressed in his every action, however cute he was at the moment.

Everyone knew The Slagmaker was planning their hideous deaths. The murders would start with Optimus Prime and end when every last one of them was dead, and little Megs wasn’t shy about making his intentions known.

Having put on his war face, little Megs was off on his standard rampage, squeaking furiously while rolling back and forth between Optimus Prime’s face and the Autobot sigil on his chest, alternating between punching the two with his arm-nubs.

Currently Megs was punching Optimus Prime right in the face … _tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap_ came the little hits, which were so slight as to be hilarious. This was a constant scene, and more than a few Autobots had hidden their snickers behind their hands when Optimus Prime took Megs on walks, trying in vain to calm him down.

It didn’t matter.

Laugh away … for little Megs knew his attempts at violence looked utterly ridiculous and he didn’t fragging care. There was nothing to do but endure, and in the meantime he hurt absolutely everyone he could to the extent that he could, no matter that there was no actual damage inflicted for his delicate state.

It was only a matter of time.

Little Megs had even given up trying to flee, just as Optimus Prime had given up trying to stop his displays of aggression. Megs couldn’t escape, any more than Optimus could stop him from punching any part of Optimus within reach, held constantly as he was by his most bitter enemy.

Hate burned bright within him, bright as any star…

…and they had only weeks before Megatron returned to his adult size and things got fragging ugly again.

Prowl watched all the punches and angry meeps with an even expression. It was a calmness that he didn’t actually feel. “We need to deactivate him,” said Prowl, though he had a sinking suspicion his Prime wasn’t going to budge on this.

“No,” said Optimus Prime, and he confirmed Prowl’s suspicions when he planted his pedes and held his ground. “I want him to live a free life, to experience what being cared for really feels like, to grow up in the new society we will build on Cybertron.”

“A new society that he will immediately declare war on,” reminded Jazz, because it was true, dammit!

It was a statement that Prowl fully endorsed and expounded on. “We can’t let him become a threat again. This is a unique opportunity to remove his tyranny from the universe. Frankly, I don’t understand why we are even having this conversation.”

Jazz nodded and then added, “No one is going to say anything, OP. He’s got a million 'shoot-to-kill-with-no-questions-asked' orders against him, all across the galaxy. No one is going to say shit, not when it’s _him_ that we’re putting down.”

It was Prowl’s turn to nod. “Everyone understands what is at risk here.” Then, after repeating the obvious – that Megatron couldn’t be allowed to become a threat again for any reason – Prowl stared at Optimus with a firm expression, and Optimus Prime met and held that stare, and then looked away.

“Killing helpless mechs is wrong, even if they are our worst enemies,” replied Optimus. He opened his mouth to continue but started coughing instead when little Megs wriggled halfway into his mouth to try and punch him from the inside.

Optimus pulled him out, murmured a gentle, “would you stop that” and held the youngster in his hand while hoping for a break in hostilities, which only meant Megs started punching his thumb-joint instead.

“Alright, so I don’ agree with that,” replied Jazz, who leaned closer and pressed his point. “I know you don’t either, not in practice. We’ve all had to kill mechs that were downed before and I’ve _seen_ you drop that hammer.”

When Jazz paused for breath, Prowl took over. “Do we need to start counting out the casualties of Megatron’s reign over the years? Shall we start with the millions of our own people and work our way up from there?”

Prowl continued to pile on the charges, not softening his points in the slightest. “How many more planets, how many more _lives_ are we going to allow him to snuff out before we commit to ending his tyranny once and for all? I want you to let me deactivate him, if only for safety’s sake; everyone’s safety. It will be painless and you know he deserves death a thousand, thousand times over.”

Megatron wasn’t a normal case and there was more at stake than just their lives, and so Prowl wasn’t going to drop this, cute sparkling or no. “We agreed death with no acceptations.”

Optimus Prime shook his helm, his expression equally grim. “I only agreed to the new protocols under duress. I refuse to allow these protoforms to be destroyed. I won’t have it, Prowl.”

“Optimus,” admonished Prowl as he placed his hand on Beloved Leader’s shoulder, “You know this is the only way to preserve a lasting peace. Megatron’s policies have murdered trillions of sentient beings. There is simply no reason to assume this forced vacation is going to have a positive effect on him.”

Little Megs scowled and paused in his punches long enough to wriggle free of Optimus’ fingers. He rolled up Optimus’ shoulder and start punching at Prowl, an ineffective attempt at violence which Prowl ignored, though his cute little smacks made Prowl’s point even better than he could.

 _Tap-tap-tap..._ and though those tiny nub-fists might be amusing now, the murderous look in little Meg’s oversized optics wasn’t funny, not really. It was a pipe dream to think that a few weeks of unwanted cuddles was going to have a lasting effect on the Leader of the Decepticons, but Optimus Prime didn’t want to budge.

“I don’t want to believe that, Prowl.”

“There is nothing to disbelieve. There are only the facts, which are that the Decepticons will never stop so long as Megatron and the rest of the key players in his army persist. You know this, I know this, and we both know there are no other options.”

_Tap-tap-tap..._

Optimus Prime winced.

He closed his optics for a moment, and listened to the little taps. Then he opened them and focused down on the little silver sparkling with the red etching, the little round frame that was back to feverishly punching the sad red face on his chest. That expression of pure hate — so unspeakably ugly on such an adorable face — never faltered.

It did not bode well.

“Prowl,” said Optimus, and there was a steel there, wreathed in desperation, all wrapped around that single word. For he couldn’t agree to the murder of protoforms for any reason, he just couldn’t. No matter the cost, it just wasn’t going to happen.

Prowl sighed. He shared a resigned look with Jazz, and then offered a second solution. “If you won’t authorize the deactivation of the Decepticons, will you at least consider taking steps to ensure they won’t return to their murderous states?”

“What do you mean?” and Optimus tilted his helm at that, while little Megs paused in his punches to scowl at Prowl.

“I had Brainstorm construct a device that can wipe their minds completely. They would lose their formal memories, though they would retain their unique selves; the part of them etched upon their sparks. Hatred is learned, it is taught to us by others through negative experiences, and that part of them would be purged, along with all the knowledge obtained through eons of war.”

“It’s quick and painless,” argued Jazz, and it was clear he was already on board. Optimus glanced at him, and his optics narrowed as he looked between Jazz and Prowl. He had the sense that this might have been their plan all along.

“How long has this been an option?” asked Optimus, his optic-ridge lifting, and it was a fair assumption that these two might have trotted out the worst case scenario just so that this solution might seem more palatable.

Prowl ignored the question of his general sneakiness as irrelevant and continued, “I have authorized its use on the most dangerous of the Decepticons, including all of the combiner teams. I just need your final approval.”

“I see,” said Optimus, though he still looked troubled. Optimus wasn't sure how much of this conversation Megatron was still understanding. Meg's violence had started up again, along with the angry meeps, but that was so normal as to be commonplace.

Prowl's solution seemed better then a traditional death, and yet it was no small thing in and of itself. The loss of education and relationships and friendships ... so much of what a person was comprised of was the experiences from sparklinghood and onward. This was still a sort of death, and Optimus faced that reality head on. It was not a simple decision, and Optimus’ fingers tightened slightly around Meg’s little frame.

_Tap--tap--tap..._

And yet it wasn’t an unfair sentence.

For the Decepticons had not been exonerated, given amnesty, or even been forgiven for the unspeakable crimes they’d committed against their own kind and especially other species. They were tried, convicted, and condemned already in countless judicial systems all across the galaxy for their unspeakable crimes, and overwhelmingly, their sentence was death.

_Tap--tap--tap..._

And in his spark, Optimus knew the two black and white were right. He knew he owed the victims of the past _and_ the innocents of the future some sort of resolution. “How … how soon can it be arranged?”

"Soon."

 _Tap--tap--tap_ …

Optimus sighed and then nodded his agreement, reluctant though it was. As he did so, any notion that little Megs didn't understand what was happening — what was going to happen — vanished when Optimus saw the sparklet suddenly cease his violence to peer up at Optimus, making sure he was watching.

Then little Megs used his arm-nub to make a slicing motion across his throat. He held his arm-nub out as if relishing the slice that would spill Optimus' internal fluids, and then released it back onto Optimus Prime's metal in the form of a punch.

... and then the little punches continued unabated.

***

 

**One Day Later...**

 

Optimus Prime and Prowl reconvened on the subject in Prime's office the next day.

"Come in," said Optimus and he held the door open for Prowl, who thanked him. Prowl was holding a basket in his right hand, and something obscure in his left. The basket was the most interesting item. It was a large one, covered with a thermal blanket, but Prowl waved off Optimus' curious look and tried to offer him the small item instead.

Optimus ignored the item and asked instead, "No Jazz today? Not even for the ... occasion?"

Prowl shook his helm. "Blaster commed him this morning. Local authorities in Scotland spotted what they swear was Soundwave. It's one of several promising leads, and Jazz and Blaster convinced Skyfire to take them this morning."

"I thought Skyfire was on leave to take care of Starscream, Skywarp, and Thundercracker?"

"Yes. He was supposed to drop them off for the wipe before his volunteer flight as I already informed everyone I want this ... unpleasant ... sentence applied and concluded by the end of the day. But he refused to report to the medbay with them," said Prowl, and there was much sternness in his voice. "He jumped at the opportunity to jet off to Scotland with them instead, delaying the inevitable."

"Wasn't Skyfire arguing for an exception for Megatron's command trine?"

"Impossible," insisted Prowl.

Optimus considered that and decided to speak with Skyfire to hear his side of things. If Skyfire could offer a reasonable argument for sparing the three seekers the loss of their memories, Optimus decided that would be his line in the sand. If it could be justified, that would be a way to repay Starscream's trine for their kindness.

During the lull in conversation, Prowl tried to offer the item to Optimus again, and again Optimus ignored it. Prowl intended to get straight to business — such things were best finished swiftly — but it seemed Optimus wasn't ready yet. That was fine, for the applying of punishment was something that never mech truly wanted nor relished, and so Prowl was willing to avoid the reason they were actually meeting, at least for the moment.

It wasn't hard as there were plenty of distractions about. Little Megs was the easiest, thanks to the previous night's drama. Optimus Prime had brought Megs to the medbay halfway through the night, as his little arm-nubs were so raw from trying to hurt Optimus that they were leaking. Megs wouldn’t stop the violence, even to the point that he was hurting his little arm-nubs.

With a deep frown, Ratchet had wrapped Meg’s little nubs in bitty bandages, all soft and poofy, which made him look even sillier when he went straight back to punching every part of Optimus he could reach.

Like Megs was doing now.

"I need you to stop this," murmured Optimus, sounding exasperated. He cupped little Megs, but the sparklet aimed a furious "meep!" at him and leapt out of his hand. The silver-red sparklet zoomed back to his shoulder, bright red eyes unrepentant. His little arm-nubs _did_ hurt though, and so Megs switched to head-butting instead, which wasn't much better.

Optimus' shoulders slumped, and Prowl took the opportunity to offer the item again. He tilted his helm as if to ask _shall we get this over with?_ ... but Optimus sighed and looked away. He chose to ignore the violence, and nuzzled the angry little sparklet instead, which only led to more violence, which he also ignored. "You were going to give me a report?"

Prowl launched into a more tradition report, but had trouble making himself heard. Someone had pushed (or bumped or rolled over) somebody else, and now there was much complaining coming from Prowl's general vicinity; all the little Construction sparklets were buzzing, beeping, meeping, and squeaking at each other from within their comfy basket, currently dangling from Prowl’s hand.

"You took responsibility for them?" asked Optimus, gesturing towards the basket. He pulled back the thermal blanket, revealing the robust little troop of sparklets.

"I did," said Prowl, and he glanced down at his new little charges. "I talked it over with Jazz, and we have decided to invite them into our lives. I have an appointment with Ratchet after. We are considering changing their paint jobs, and blanking their stored scans, which would include their current alt-forms. It would make them harder to recognize once they take adult forms. Later they can chose for themselves any new form."

It was a good idea.

Optimus Prime brightened when a notion hit. He was checking his own stored scans, when on his shoulder, little Megs paused in his customary violence to roll down and launch himself into the basket of Construticon sparklets. Landing amidst them, Megatron squeaked furiously, raising his little arm-nubs and demanding they salute him, to prove to these Autobots that the Decepticons were resolute in their hate.

The Constructicons merely mobbed him instead and Scrapper tried to “adopt” him by grabbing him around his middle and began carrying him around, which little Megs found most upsetting.

Then Optimus Prime reached down and rescued little Megs. He cupped the obtuse little sparklet and placed him back on his broad shoulder. There was a good chance that little Megs had forgotten his fate, and that encountering the Constructions had reminded him, for the furious punches began anew, somehow even _more_ furious than before, which was an impressive feat.

Glancing down at the little Constructicons, Prowl tilted his helm and began to swing the basket gently. The resulting squeaks of delight from the basket was most endearing … and rather out of place. Optimus gave Prowl an inquiring look, and Prowl nodded. “Their rebirth was carried out this morning. I had them separated out one by one, and made sure they had no idea what was happening.”

Then Prowl checked himself and frowned, correcting his vernacular. He refused to hide behind squirrely words. “The deaths of their old selves was as painless and peaceful as we could make it.”

For their death sentences hadn’t changed, but what constituted “death” ... had. The mind wipe of the Decepticon’s adult memories was the punishment of death carried to completion, and the rebirth of their sparks as new individuals constituted the mercy that Prime still desired. It satisfied many of the Autobots on a deep and personal level, once it was understood that the Decepticons would not be getting off easy.

There remained severe ethical concerns with what they were doing, and both Prowl and Optimus Prime refused to overlook them, though this seemed the best option for everyone. Some of the hard-liners still protested, but generally it was agreed that allowing the Decepticons their lives — considering how close to extinction the Cybertronian race was coming — was the right thing to do. It meant a fresh start for all of them, though to the Decepticons, this fate was very much a sort of death.

And then there seemed no point in delaying and Optimus took a deep breath. "It's time, Prowl. Let us finish this dreadful business swiftly." Then he reached up and grasped little Megs, holding him gently but firmly as he murmured, "I have been assured that this process is completely painless."

"Meep," said little Megs, his huge optics narrowing hatefully.

“I am ready when you are,” said Prowl firmly, and hidden in his left palm was a small, cylindrical object. Anyone that had seen the "Men in Black" movies like Brainstorm had, would recognize the shape and design of the mind-wiping device. The blase' way Brainstorm had designed the device was a testament to his dark sense of humor, though as none of the mechs present had seen the movie, it was neither here nor there.

Still tucked comfortably snug in Optimus Prime’s servo, Megatron  looked absolutely horrified at the prospect of losing his memories. His fierce bluster deserted him in this moment as tiny meeps of worry replaced it, no matter how hard he tried to be quiet.

“You will not be harmed,” Optimus murmured down to him, though this was untrue. Megatron’s body and spark wouldn’t be harmed, but his mind, that which made him what he was — an unrepentant mass murderer — was very much in peril.

Prowl stepped forward, and Optimus Prime found himself balking, even though he knew he had no choice, not if he wanted the murders, the genocide of countless races to stop. “Quickly then,” said Optimus, and rolled Megatron onto his back, holding him out for Prowl. There was no words spoken beyond those of simple comfort; no ceremony, no reading of victim impact statements.

Some Autobots had preferred an actual trial, with all the pomp and substance such a proceeding would offer. The rest noted that putting sparklets on trial and condemning them to death — even though they were still destined to be their old murderous selves — was something that future generations simply wouldn’t be able to comprehend, and so the Decepticons were spared the ruckus.

As such, Prowl’s procedure was immediate and every bit as short and painless as promised. Megatron had only a scant few seconds between the time he realized _this is happening now  ..._ to the moment that Prowl triggered the EMP device that would clear away all that he had been.

“Mee—”

Then all went white.

 

***

Prowl spoke a few words, and then took his leave.

This left Optimus Prime alone with his new responsibility, and at first he wasn't sure what to do. Little Megatron was still unconscious, and it would take a few breems for his systems to reboot and bring him back online.

Then Optimus remembered an earlier comment ... the one about different paint jobs and the difference they might make for the future, especially when it was so important to him that this opportunity not be squandered.

Optimus tapping at his wrist-panel, pulling up the errant scan he had taken of another Megatron; a kinder being from a different dimension. The scan was complete and perfect. After a moment of hesitation, Optimus transmitted it to the tiny sparkling, using an emergency medical frequency that would cause the youngster's systems to enact the protocols needed to switch out a poor form for a better one, meant for life or death situations.

Optimus had already decided that for his greater purpose, this was close enough.

Smiling faintly, Optimus watched as the update took effect and the silver sparkling's helm and mobility gluteal changed color, deepening into a royal purple with green highlights. Little audial nubs appeared on Meg's helm. They grew and grew until they were quite noticeable tines, perhaps even a little bigger then his own audials had been as Oppy.

They were destined to be antlers and would do much to distinguish Megatron from his previous incarnation. Optimus wondered how possible it would be to completely hide Megatron's true identity from everyone back on Cybertron, and while he was pondering that, the bitty round frame twitched and little Megs opened his optics for the first time.

 

***

The hatred faded away.

All trace of the vile being that had harmed so many, had done such awful things, finally faded away, leaving only the pure spark behind. It was a death in a manner of speaking, and so Death came to bear witness, even abandoning a dance with a man in a red suit to appear.

Death was pale and glimmering, clothed only in a black hood and robe.

Her face was white and etched and She appeared the moment the device struck its blow and She waited as patient as She ever was, but the spark of the being never failed and so She left, feeling rather cheated, and for a long time there was only quiet.

At first little Megs was aware only of a faint thrum, the soft beat of a tiny fuel pump in his audials, and a glimmer of light past his closed optics. There was more, growing by the moment; a gentle touch at his cheek, louder sounds of murmuring, the movement of his body back and forth in a rhythmic rocking that was most comforting.

Little Megs opened his optics for the first time, and at that moment, the very first moment in this new beginning, Megs saw bright blue eyes looking down upon him. He peered up at the blue and silver and red mech, and felt just the faintest hint of fear.

"Peep?" asked little Megs.

There was a _snick_ sound and Optimus' face appeared where the blast mask had been, and he was smiling. That expression warmed Meg's spark in an instinctive sort of way, and then he heard a voice, a deep and kindly voice and Megs chirped shy greetings while straightening himself. He rolled forward and back, testing his mobility, and found it acceptable.

Little Megs poofed out his bitty plates and settled them, and then he felt a warm nuzzle against his little self.

It was a kiss, and little Megs peeped happily and snuggled back ...

 

... and lived happily ever after.

 

 

Finis

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Renewal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12445170) by [PAW_07](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAW_07/pseuds/PAW_07)




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